


Synesthesia

by Cecret



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Established Cheleanor, Eventual Smut, F/M, FRIENDS TO BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mentions of past Teleanor, Sexual Tension, Slow burn Hellstrop, but different ending, i'll tag it when i get to it, technically canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 83,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecret/pseuds/Cecret
Summary: “Their path had been as unpredictable as she was, and now nothing less than the fate of humanity rested in the hands of the most unexpected pair.”This story tells the journey Eleanor and Michael go on as they, together, lead the most important neighborhood of the universe. A “backstage” of Season 4 showing missing moments between them that ―for all we know― could be canon.
Relationships: Chidi Anagonye/Eleanor Shellstrop, Michael (The Good Place) & Eleanor Shellstrop, Michael (The Good Place)/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 148
Kudos: 90





	1. Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serena_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_Rose/gifts), [mariant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariant/gifts).



> Inspired by this post (spoilers for the story inside. I plan on changing a couple of things, though): https://herqueensguard.tumblr.com/post/620281824615251968/cecret-with-c-herqueensguard-cecret-with-c
> 
> Moodboard by the incredible Serena_Rose: https://herqueensguard.tumblr.com/post/627921801101574144/little-present-for-cecret-with-c-a-moodboard

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

He was leaning against the wall of the office, towering over her with his arms over his chest. One leg was lazily crossed in front of the other, showcasing some of the stripes on his colorful socks.

“Yeah, man, I’m sure. Just like I was the last five times you asked me.” Open palms fell on the desk as restlessness started to slip from Eleanor’s voice. She straightened her shoulders and held her chin up, as to not seem too small in front of him. The mere three feet between them seemed shorter when he looked at her so attentively. 

_ What did he see in her? _

Maybe one day, she would dare to ask him what seeing in nine dimensions was like, even if she couldn’t comprehend it.

“Is there a problem here, bud? Can you even do this? I mean, it’s possible, right?”

“Of course it is! It’s just like what we did on Earth. It’s even simpler here, since I don’t need any special equipment. But that’s not the point…” He paused to remove his glasses and rub his eyelids. 

_ Should a demon even be able to feel tired? _ Maybe that was privilege solely saved to those who knew Eleanor Shellstrop.

“...Over three hundred years, just brought back out of nowhere. It can be overwhelming.”

He met her eyes when she groaned. “C’mon, man! You’re the one who said this was a ‘job for a human’.” Four fingers rose in air quotes to get the point across. “If I’m the one who can understand why some reboots worked better than others, I need to know what happened in them. You’ve told me the basics: chaos sequency, welcome video, camping month, ‘only nice pranks’ April Fools… But it’s not the same as  _ actually _ living them. Or reliving them, or-  _ dying  _ them? Whatever. Look-” She took a step towards him, rubbing her palms with excitement. “I wanna see what made us tick, what made us change. This is definitely the best way to do that!”

“Air quotes cost you thirteen points on Earth. And the smell they fill the air with is not precisely nice, so I would appreciate it if you stopped using them.”

“Smell? They smell?”

She  _ really _ needed to ask him about those nine dimensions.

Michael couldn’t help a small smile at the way her brows creased, her curiosity helping him avoid the current topic of their discussion. Maybe one day, she would get around to ask him about the way he perceived the universe, and he could confess having seen the golden cloud of interest that hovered above her head each time he mentioned something like that.

It’s not  _ that  _ bad being a nerd, Shellstrop.

“But lemons are nice. At least for yoga-pants-wearing New Age semi-rich benches.”

“Okay, it’s more like- How can I put this in human words? It’s like... smelling the taste of snorting lemon juice.”

She cringed, the golden cloud turning into a musty green mist. His job was done.

“Yeah, that’s nasty. I’ll probably never do it again.” Michael cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Fine, I totally will. Partly, just to annoy the fork out of you, nine-dimension-seeing, reformed demon. You have it coming for stalling. You really think I can't notice? I may not have infinite years of not-life, but I do have the world-class bullshirt detector you mentioned just a couple of hours ago.”

Her body language deliberately mirrored his as she spoke, facing him off in a pose that reminded him of too many shared moments. Eleanor had never been afraid of him, and he found that fascinating.

_ I know everything about you, remember? _

Maybe she kind of did, too. In a different way.

And to think that, on that first try, he was sure he would have her wrapped around his finger in a matter of weeks, the benevolent Architect allowing an Arizona trashbag to stay in the ‘Good Place’. How far they had come since then! Their path had been as unpredictable as she was, and now nothing less than the fate of humanity rested in the hands of the most unexpected pair.

“So? What's it gonna be, Mikey, my boy?”

“It's not that I don't _ want _ to give you your memories back.” His voice, low and serious, finally whispered some honesty into their conversation. “They're yours, and you  _ can _ have them. I just… Wh-why now? Why tonight?”

Shocked, she looked down at her own body and back up to meet his eyes. “Hey, man, I showered! Would you lay off?"

“That's not it!” It truly wasn’t. He noticed her damp hair and the smell of peaches as soon as she stormed in. He also wondered why she switched from vanilla. He didn’t ask.

But he noticed.

* * *

He knew she would need a few minutes to get her shirt back together, so on his walk back to Mindy's he decided to use the time he had to slap some sense into the others.

What were they even thinking? If anything, Eleanor was the reason the experiment hadn't fallen apart at its very beginning. Fork, not even 300 years were enough for Michael, and after just three days her best friends turned their backs on her? 

They should be grateful that she took over.

How come they didn't realize she deserved the 800 chances he’d had and as many more as she needed? Was he the only one who could see how it  _ had _ to be her? He meant what he said: she, and only she, was the key part in this crazy plan to reform the afterlife system. She had the creativity of an immortal, the empathy of a human and the strength and intelligence of the only Eleanor Shellstrop that had ever lived in the entire multiverse.

He called her "Fake Eleanor" once, blissfully unaware of the fact that she was the realest, most interesting and authentic person he would ever get the chance to meet. How could the others not see it?

He wanted them to understand. He wanted them to realize that only the girl from Arizona that was crying on the couch ―literally salting her own margarita― had the amazing qualities needed to accomplish their impossible task. 

A part of him even wanted to torment them, to make them feel as bad as Eleanor did. He used to know how to make a human miserable with just a couple of well chosen words. And now, he might as well try that again: he was angry at his friends in a way he had never been before, not since before teaming up with them, at least.

If they had been his bosses back in the day, he would've been retired as soon as the minor thing went south and none of them would even be there.

He meant to tell them all that.

Instead, he opened the door and closed it without turning (in his mind, he slammed it shut). Four eyes abruptly met his (for the slamming, of course, not out of expectation) and he only managed to swallow the mass that had formed in his throat to speak rather roughly, with sarcasm dripping from his voice:

“Great job, guys. That was  _ just _ what we needed.”

He made a mental note to ask Janet about that mass. He didn't need to eat, but his current state proved to be quite uncomfortable.

“Janet left?”

Tahani had already stood and now paced around the room. “Yes, Brent called on her to ‘dine’. But, that is not what matters now, no. Michael, how is Eleanor? Oh, we are so, so sorry.” She came to stand in front of him and he was then able to see a slight puffiness in her eyes. "I would really like to speak with her. Is she coming back now?”

The longer reboots had always relied on the humans feeling so miserable for other people that they continuously inflicted torture upon themselves. What Michael learned over time was that those were also the ones where they'd had enough time to become their very best versions.

If he was being honest with himself, they could use a break now. All of them.

Everyone made mistakes, after all.

“She’ll be fine, Tahani. I bet she just needs a couple of minutes.” He placed his hand on her forearm and offered a comforting smile. 

Fork, these humans had practically built him a heart. 

He couldn’t possibly get mad at them.

“Thank you for letting me go to her first. I think-” The sound of the door interrupted him as Eleanor walked back into the house. She searched Michael's eyes and opened her mouth to speak but quickly disappeared into the embrace of a much taller woman.

Michael smiled and went to sit on the couch while he listened to Tahani frantically repeat apologies and mention how she, of all people, should know how bad it feels like to have your abilities questioned. She only calmed down when Eleanor promised she would go to her house the next day, for a ‘girls night’.

“It's all good, hot stuff. Don't worry.” She then settled next to Michael and he could feel her eyes fixating on him as he grabbed Brent's file.

_ The 1001th idea _ .

"Yo, dog.” Jason’s voice, absent of its usual spark and peppered with worry, drew her attention. “I’m sorry for everything. Wanna do a Fast & Furious marathon this weekend?" He offered a fist that she instantly bumped. “Sure thing, buddy. Okay! Let’s just go over the plans for tomorrow morning and get this over with.”

She nudged Michael with her elbow when Tahani started reading the outline for her ideas to connect with John. When he met her eyes, he saw her smile openly and mouth  _ Thank you _ .

His hand ghosted over her back until it reached her shoulder, and he gave it a little squeeze. 

She felt the tips of his fingers slide through her ribcage, passing her spine, and heard the promise he didn’t need to say out loud.

_ I’m right here. _

About an hour after they called it a night, she showed up in his office and demanded to have her memories ―all of her memories― back. He stood when she appeared, out of habit, leaving the chair empty for its new “Architect”. She didn’t sit, though, and rested her lower back on the desk, facing him.

There was no “boss” between the two of them. Not anymore.

* * *

He loosely signaled her body with one hand. “I… see that.”  _ Why peaches? _ “Look, Eleanor-” She cut him off. “I’m gonna stop you right there, dude. Please don’t tell me this is another one of your ‘I don’t want you to see me, a literal demon, being evil’ crisis because we’ve been through this. I’m not mad at you!”

“If you just stopped interrupting me, you could actually listen to what I have to say.” 

Her palms raised in front of her chest. “You’re right. Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

At least he managed to avoid  _ that _ subject.

“Human brains have a quite primitive mnemotechnic system. As time passes, your brain forgets the details it considers irrelevant, leaving room for new memories and experiences. Your mental capacities are limited, and I simply don’t know if you could handle it all at once.”

His hand came to rest on her shoulder and he leaned his head to meet her eyes. “You have to remember I’m the one who designed this technique. You guys were basically my guinea pigs. I’ve never done this before, handing back centuries of removed memories in one single instant. It  _ can _ be done. I just don’t want to risk hurting you.”

He meant to stress the ‘hurting’ part. But she heard the weight of his voice fall deeply in his last word.

“Like I said, your memories are yours, and you can have them back if you want them. I just want to make sure that you understand one thing: they consist, pretty basically, of 300 years of psychological torture. I knew what buttons to push, and so did the other demons.” He made a short pause to trace her reaction and watched her swallow. “I just think it can be a little too much for a single night, especially considering you haven’t had an easy day. Or an easy week. We can do this more slowly if you prefer, a few reboots per night. What do you think?”

She looked away for a moment, thinking, and then back to his eyes. “No. I wanna do it now. I’m ready.” 

“Are y-” 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she laughed. “Motherforker! Yes! I’m sure, Michael!”

“Most of your memories are with-”  _ Chidi _ . 

She nodded. “I know. And it might not be easy to see all that now, but I need it... Look, maybe our ‘1001th idea’ is in here”, she pointed at her temple with an index finger, “but I just forgot about it.”

“Well, then.” He turned the chair ninety degrees and gestured for her to sit on it. Standing in front of her, he waited silently until her eyes met his. “Just let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Just do it.”

His thumb grazed his middle finger as the air around them turned dense and the air around her filled with little red spots.

And he snapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading! If you got all the way down here, I really hope you liked it. This is just the beginning of a long story I have planned.  
> English isn’t my native language and I’m going back to writing after years of not doing anything, so I accept any constructive criticism you give me. Please let me know if something seems weird or is plain wrong.


	2. The Dangers of being a Guinea Pig

She opened her eyes. He hadn't asked her to close them, but it just made sense to do it.

Like waking up from an impossibly long dream.

Eleanor blinked a few times and, when the wetness behind her lids ―no, they were  _ not _ tears― subsided, she saw the blue orbs fixed on her face.

“Michael…”

He was down on one knee in front of her, at face-level, and his right hand stretched towards the desk to hand her a glass of water.  _ Where the fork did that come from? _

“Are you okay? Do you know where… or  _ when  _ you are?” He then lowered his voice to a whisper and pointed a finger to the glass. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t think the situation called for a ‘margarita’”.

“I… I don’t know. I mean, I  _ know _ , but I just… Fork, that was insane.” She dropped her head on her palms. “If what you’re asking is if my brain exploded over there, it didn’t. It’s just calibrating a little after this mad ash trip it took. Kinda like that GPS lady, when you go too far off the road, ya know? Nah, 'course you wouldn’t.”

He did know. He had read countless files that ended shortly after that, with humans straying in the most diverse scenarios. But there were also others that merely took a break from the highway to fork in a car located in the middle of wilderness.

Needless to say, Eleanor was part of the latter group.

Michael was about to tell her that ―just the first bit― when he noticed she had started slurring. He internally cursed. This a possible but not probable consequence of dealing with such an overflow of memories. Nevertheless, when had Eleanor Shellstrop’s actions been correctly measured by probability?

Apparently, the enormous amount of stimuli processed by her brain in such a short period of time was able to alter her brain functions, modifying the density of the fluids inside her ear ducts and lowering the capacities of her neurotransmitters. Just as this was impairing her speech, it would most likely show an effect on her motor skills, emotional expression and inhibition.

Eleanor was drunk.

"Uff… I think I have a headache."

He rose to his feet and searched inside one of his drawers. "Would be weird if you didn't. You are basically intoxicated right now. The good thing is, now, we know it’s a possibility, so I can make a few changes, twitch the settings a little so it's not that hard on the others." He handed her a single turquoise pill, avoiding her eyes. "This should help."

"Thanks. Hey, Michael?"

"Did the memories come back right? Can you recognize some sort of order?"

"Yeah, yeah. They're alright. Couch, office, blah blah blah. We figure it out, snappy-snappy and it's merry-go-round all over again. But I-"

"Well, that's pretty much it."

"Dude, j-"

"You should start feeling better at any moment now. This was no different than an overdose. I- I should have waited, we should’ve done this over a couple of days. I bet Jason will do just fine, but he spent half his life smoking salvia, which must make this easier, somehow. Tahani, however-"

"Dude! Listen to me."

Michael stopped talking and met her eyes for one second before lowering his sight to his feet. He waited for her to speak, expecting the worst words to come out of her mouth.

“Thank you.”

_ What _ ? He snorted. “For torturing you? Sure, no problem.” 

She clumsily stood, still visibly dizzy, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face her. "No, you  _ dumbash _ . Y- You're…"

_ Was she hugging him? _

Her voice broke, muffled by the way her cheek stuck to his shirt. “ _ Thank you _ , Michael.” His fingers ghosted over her hair but decided against touching it, and he took a step back to release himself of her embrace.

“For what?” 

“Well, if it weren’t for you, silver little devil, I’d surely be working a shirty job at whatever shirty, shady, ponzi scheme would have me back in Phoenix. But-s mor’ than that…” Her index finger dramatically pointed at his face and her brow creased, pensive. Michael didn't know what to expect from that expression. He could be a second away from being confronted about all the times he'd lied and manipulated the human before him, and there was nothing he could do but endlessly apologize for it.

But her face showed no anger. A yellow light on her forehead, instead, let him observe how intrigued she was.

"You _ saved  _ me. You scarifi- sacrificed yourself to save  _ me _ , the biggest, hugest and biggest dirtbag you've ever met. Why?” She stood straight and blinked a few times, seeming ―for only one second― too serious to be as drunk as she was. "I mean, that's gotta be the most amazing thing anyone's done for me. Like- ever."

"You changed. Like, for  _ real _ . Gen should just reform the afterlife cause'f you. Be like ' _ oh, a demon learned ethics and now hates torture. This is forked up' _ . And you…" She held out her hand to hold his but, as soon as she grazed it, it went up to his face, as Michael removed and cleaned his glasses, clearing his throat. 

_ Can glasses even get dirty in the afterlife?  _

“You, my friend, made ethics your  _ bench _ . Like, ‘I solved the trolley problem’? That was smooth as fork, I gotta give it up.”

She managed to make him laugh with that.

“I guess I was inspired.” He tried to ignore the way her eyes blinked pink sparkles and opened a hand to place on her shoulder. At the last second, he changed it into a fist and nudged her, forgetting the fact that he was considerably stronger than her. Her whole body leaned as she lost some of her balance, so he grabbed her forearms to put her back on her feet. “Oh, sorry.”  _ Pull it together, Michael _ . "You should go home and rest, you need it." He added, shaking a finger in her direction.

She grimaced. “Home. Right. Well, see you tomorrow, bud.”

She turned and started to walk towards the door.

"Eleanor, wait..." For some reason, leaving her to wander half a neighborhood alone in this state didn't seem like a bright idea. She could run into one of the residents. Or worse, go looking for one. What if she knocked on Chidi's door, brain full of lost memories, and told him everything?

What if she got lost, or fell asleep on top of whatever bench was nearest? (He meant a literal bench, just to clarify. Although the alternative was not precisely wiser, either).

Fresh air would be good for her, too. For the both of them.

"Would you like me to walk you there?"

* * *

"Is it a  _ déjà vu _ if you actually lived it?" They passed through the frozen yogurt shops of the main street, just by the train station. The sky was still dark and the only sounds that could be heard were the slow steps of their shoes on the pavement.

“Well, yes and no. You're not really  _ feeling  _ like you lived something, you just remembered you did. Many times, in fact. However,  _ déjà vu _ is a little more complex than you were taught. And therefore, closer to what you're sensing now.” He eyed her. Her face looked more sharp and her walk was more stable already. "Basically, there's a point in the Bearimy timeline ―more specifically, the middle curl of the B― where a small glitch lets all Bearimy-affected beings perceive more than one instant in the same moment. You can't remember the other instant, because of-"

"Our ‘primitive memo-whatever systems’, got it. We're basic."

" _ Mnemotechnic _ , but yes. You can't remember it, so your brain processes the two instants as one, leaving only whichever is closer to your immediate reality. The idea of experiencing two things remains, but it appears to be the same thing instead of two different moments. Much like two different reboots."

"Wow, that's cool, man. Hey, how scared shirtless would you've been if I'd told you I had  _ déjà vu _ during one of your attempts?"

They tried to keep their laughter down as they neared the residential area of the neighborhood, walking through the park. "Oh, I would have probably snapped my fingers for a dumb glitch and then spent days locked up in my office trying to figure out the failure in the Oblivion Mechanism."

"Uhh, ‘Oblivion Mechanism’. That sounds fancy, you should totally trademark it."

As they reached the small pond, he remembered this was the spot where the actual game always began, where he told her the life "Real Eleanor" supposedly led. He stopped and spoke to draw her attention.

"Listen, Eleanor. I just want to apologize for all the things I’ve done to you. I wish… I wish things had been different, somehow."

"Bro, we've talked about this already. I'm not mad. It's like this chick we read for class said… What was her name? The one that banged her teacher. Oh, Arendt! You were following orders, like a good ol' bur- bureaucrat."

"The Banality of Evil? Huh, I hadn't thought of that. Still..." __

_ That still doesn't erase all the bad things I did to you, guys. _

“And by the way, who would've thought being drunk made you such a nerd?”

"I didn't drink. You, mister, just stuffed my head with hundreds of years of moral philosophy bullshirt."

He stared at the clown house, hideous as always, as they reached its garden. 

"Touché."

He opened the door and waited for her to cross. Eleanor removed her blue jacket and kicked off her sneakers the moment she went through it.

"Hello, stupid house that I hate! Hello, one million clowns! ...I'm stupid. Stupid for asking you this stupid house and these stupid clowns."

With a wave of his hand, the horrid paintings disappeared. He thought he could replace them with pictures of mailmen or MMA fighters (both male and female), but for now, he decided to leave the walls empty.

If she asked for them, he would put them up. 

She turned to face him, arms wide open. "Thank you!" Her voice lowered as she climbed the stairs towards her bed. "Idiot clowns, you don't have a Michael like my Michael to remove your ugly paintings of ugly humans. I win."

He laughed at his friend while he filled a glass of water in her kitchen. By the time he reached the nightstand, she was already sitting in bed, looking at him in silence.

"Drink this. I should get going." He smiled at her and began to turn around when the sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Michael, Michael, wait. Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"Do you think Chidi's still going to love me when he gets his memories back?"

_ Why wouldn’t he? _

Her lips formed a pout and he regretted not instantly saying the words out loud. 

“I mean, Simone's here now. Last time we met, he fell for her. But  _ now _ , I can also see how much of a nightmare I was in fake Heaven. I didn't know I was torturing him, but… I knew. I mean, I knew he was miserable, each time, and didn't do anything about it. What if he sees that and stops loving me?”

He sighed and sat on the edge of her bed.

“That's not going to happen. Chidi loves you, he knows you changed. And you didn't just do that because of his classes. You changed  _ for _ him, for all your friends. You are a good person, Eleanor. You improved, every time, and actually tried to stop him from being miserable.”

"Well, that doesn't erase all the bad things I did to him."

He almost laughed at that.  _ You and I are really very similar _ .

"Oh, but outside you said you forgive me for torturing you. Which I  _ consciously  _ did! How's that different? Or do you secretly hate me?", he teased, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I don't hate you, dummy. You're the coolest demon I know."

"Well, that's a pretty low bar…" He chuckled and squeezed her shin. "You'll be okay. Trust me. You  _ are _ special, Eleanor. And Chidi knows that."

_ He'd be stupid if he didn’t _ .

She curled her fingers around his arm. "Thanks, Michael." He stood and she cleared her throat.

"Look, I wanna say two things. Two teeny, tiny things, before you go." He cocked his head to the side, no longer scared of her inexistent anger, but intrigued at how talkative an intoxicated Eleanor was. It wasn't a surprise for him, but this was the first time he was the only spectator of such a show.

"And the first one is going to be super lame, but I'm still kinda tipsy on memories, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it."

He stilled, expectant.

"We used to be pretty close, man. Before I went back from the dead and all. I would like to… you know?" Her finger guns did not precisely clarify her point in Michael's eyes.

"What?"

"Argh, I don't know, go back to that? Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you, man? Besties, just shooting the shirt, arcading and having a study group. I don’t  _ want _ a study group now, but you get what I’m saying, right?” 

She scratched her skin as the same red spots of before started to float out of her arm. Why so nervous?

He gave her a beaming smile and lightly laughed. "Oh, Eleanor! I think I do. I would really like that."

She started to lay down and he took it as his cue to leave. When he reached the sliding clown doors ―now blank―, he remembered.

"What was the second thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh! That you, my all knowing demon, are wrong on one very important matter…"

His brow creased.

" _ Any _ situation calls for a margarita."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate clowns


	3. A New Place

Human emotions rarely made sense.

Before meeting his friends, Michael thought he was capable of perceiving the universe in a much more complex form than simpler creatures ―such as human beings― could, and was, therefore, inherently superior to them. However, as soon as he was confronted with those so-called ‘feelings’, he learned that there were parts of mortal existence that he couldn't easily comprehend. Even less, experience.

Reading a file plagued by emotions and intentions was one thing. Seeing, smelling or hearing their physical manifestations was another. And one of the most baffling moments of his career came when, for the first time in his eternal life, Michael provoked positive feelings on a human. While welcoming Chidi into the afterlife, he discovered what pure  _ joy _ looked like. It was only momentaneous, as he then proceeded to tell him all his heroes were in the Bad Place, but it managed to linger in his mind long enough to spike his curiosity. Having only been exposed to the responses humans gave to torture, his first neighborhood opened up an entirely new realm of possibilities to his senses.

It almost felt like learning a new language.

He had read all the manuals, done all the research and prepared the simulations. But it all came down to the same thing he'd said, over and over, since the day of his promotion: there was nothing like  _ being there _ .

He knew that joy led the corners of human mouths to rise and the eyes to lightly crease. He knew a bright and sunny yellow ball started to grow above their hearts as it increased, and that it smelled like a summer’s sunset breeze. He could even recite from memory all the events that caused the four subjects of his experiment to feel it.

But nothing had ever prepared him for his first sighting of it.

Michael was fascinated. The speed at which mortals switched between happiness and suffering or anger and love (sometimes experiencing many at the same time) kept him constantly on his toes, becoming one of the most effective ―and dangerous― weapons of his neighborhood.

As time passed, generating positive emotions on his humans ―no,  _ his friends _ ― became his primary goal, and no longer the intriguing side effect to a special kind of torture, nor the sign that something or  _ someone _ had to be taken away from them. Then, he started to notice the warm sensation that lightened up his chest whenever it happened and realized something a bit disturbing: feelings appeared to be  _ contagious _ . He found himself being happy, grateful or loving more often than not, with only worry or fear as their negative counterparts. No longer loathing. No indifference. No hatred.

The first few times he  _ felt _ , his eyes darted to his chest or tried to catch a glimpse at the top of his head, as his body understood what was happening before he did. Eventually, he got used to the manifestations and decided to focus instead on the intricate ramifications of human emotions. Because what no one told him about maintaining bonds based on positive feelings was that it was much more confusing, as there was no manual to help him understand, and most of the rules were not explicit. Humans learned how to behave with others during their life, and Michael sometimes feared his friends forgot he never really had one. He couldn’t intuitively guess  _ why _ things were wrong or right, since he was only taught the objective points an action brought into the universe.

He struggled with the notion that lying was almost as wrong as sharing too much information. Trust, in particular, was difficult for him to grasp. He felt his collar tighten as he tried to remember in which part of the spectrum lied withholding potentially important information and wondered, once more, if he should tell Eleanor about the Bad Place’s latest invention. He decided against it, fearing she would never look at him in the same way after considering that someone who resembled him could take his place at any time.

While he thought about joy and ethics, his mind drifted back to the point where his train of thought had started, a while ago: Chidi. 

The first living being that made him question his supposed superiority.

The one that, involuntarily and unconsciously, made him feel like he would never ―could never― be  _ enough _ .

It wasn’t hard to admit he was worried about him. Things never went well when Eleanor and Chidi parted ways. Granted, they were both here, but in a way that made leaning into each other as they always did a lot more complicated. Shawn had certainly come up with a trick more perverse than anything he had ever thought for his own neighborhood: with a single move, he was able to make each and every single member of his gang miserable.

Chidi was forced to make one of the hardest decisions of his life. Eleanor had to let go of her biggest love. Jason was left without his best bud. Tahani lost her rock. And Janet, her enthusiastic, curious and kind friend.

As for Michael… Well, he couldn’t do anything but just sit and watch it happen. His former boss knew there was no worse torture for him than that.

What he  _ had _ trouble admitting was the confusing mixture of feelings that haunted him for the past week. 

Michael was  _ angry _ . First, at himself, for letting his guard down and not thinking ahead: he should’ve known the Bad Place would play dirty. It was in their forking playbook, for Doug’s sake! He trembled just thinking what their next plot would be.

And memories about skin suits rumbled in his ears.

He was also angry at  _ them _ , for being unable to see what he saw: that humans could improve and that they deserved a second chance. 

And he was angry at Chidi. It didn’t make sense, which made matters even more confusing. But he was, for leaving  _ her _ , for forcing Eleanor to do an ever bigger sacrifice than the one he did: she was finally happy, and suddenly that was gone. He tried to tell her that, to ease her sadness.

_ “Yeah, but we know what he gave up” _

Michael sure as Hell did. 

He had done the same thing for her in Bad Place HQ: he thought he would never see her again and didn’t hesitate for a second before pushing her through the portal. He would do the same for any of them, give them up to ensure their safety. Letting Eleanor go that time had been the easiest call he ever had to make.

But it was different than this, wasn't it?

The thing was now she went to bed alone every night, in the same house where she had fallen in love for a guy who didn’t even remember her.

_ “I’m stupid. Stupid for asking you this stupid house and these stupid clowns.” _

Michael recalled taking her home a week ago and dared to admit his most puzzling discovery: he was  _ happy _ . And he had no right to be. His friend was suffering while he was disgustingly joyful at the thought of getting her friendship ―her real, honest and deep friendship― back.

Reprehensible thoughts whispered in his ear, responding to the toxic training of his old job (it was hard to get rid of those sometimes): would all of this have happened if Chidi were still here? Was she lonely? Was he some sort of friendly rebound?

No. He wouldn’t let his mind wander there. Not anymore. Not after what the six of them had been through together.  _ It was the number of friends in  _ Friends _ after all.  _ They deserved better from him. And if Eleanor needed someone to watch her back, he would jump to it. He had to make it up to her.

And  _ something _ , something about her was wrong.

_ “Have you slept at all last night?” The stifled yawns and the smell of concealer on her face answered for her. _

_ “Have  _ you _ slept at all last night?” _

_ “I don’t sleep. You already know that.” _

_ “You don’t or you can’t?” she crossed her arms and looked at him with feign curiosity. Deflecting and evading.  _

_ Classic Shellstop. _

She showed up at his office almost every night, bringing new plans for the neighborhood. She spent entire evenings at Tahani’s or Jason’s. One time, he found her luring around the park under the moonlight. 

It was not about the clown paintings.

He knocked on the wooden door and waited. The woman appeared with a warm smile on her face.

“Tahani! I’m so glad you’re home. I need to talk to you.”

"Oh, Michael! What a pleasant surprise! What is it you want to talk about?"

Faster than he thought humanly possible, Tahani had placed a tea tray on the small table of her sitting room and was already pouring the beverage into two cups, dropping four sugar cubes in one of them and handing it to him.

Just how he liked it. After thanking her, he decided it was best to get to the point. His hand grazed her forearm while he crossed his legs, facing her.

"Listen, Tahani. About a week ago, I gave Eleanor all of her memories back, the entire collection of reboots from the original timeline. I wanted to ask if you would like me to do the same thing with you."

A brief moment of uncertainty was given away by the expression on her face, but was quickly replaced by interest as she raised her chin and softly leaned her head to the side, the warm smile returning to her face.

“I suppose I would. It might be somewhat intimidating, for sure, but they are my memories after all. And considering we have only a year to make these people better, I cannot think of a better opportunity to do it." She leaned slightly closer to Michael and lowered her voice. "Although, I do want to ask you one thing beforehand. How did Eleanor respond to this? She did not mention it to me.”

“Yes, I asked her not to until I could sort some things out and make a few changes in the mechanism. As for Eleanor, well… Mentally, she was fine, better than I expected, if I'm being honest: three hundred years of psychological torture is not precisely light weight, but she handled it pretty well. As I am sure you will.” He had read the fear in his friend's face, expecting nothing less than that given the nature of his proposition, so he rushed to offer support. “But she experienced symptoms similar to a drunken state, so she was-”

“Handsy and oversharing. Yes, I am familiar.” She shook a hand at him, dismissive.

“Exactly. You should know, Tahani, that I’m the one who designed this technique, and that Eleanor was the first human I ever gave memories back to. I had only taken them away before. Which means it can surely be improved.” His index finger shot up to highlight his next point. “And given that, if we succeed, we might be able to change the system by which we judge people in the afterlife, this tool could be useful for more than just our little group. So, I  _ also  _ wanted to ask if you would be willing to try a few experiments with me. Maybe the two of us can figure out what works best and how we can lessen potential side effects. What do you think?”

“Oh, Michael, of course! Whatever you need. As I told Leonardo DiCaprio the morning after his 35th birthday party, ‘together, we will help our friends remember’. This will be so exciting! Kind of like a little side project for our team.”

He smiled at her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so glad to have you on board. I was thinking we could meet here or in the office a couple of times a week, we try different amounts of reboots, make a few charts and compare results considering the twitches I make in the system.”

“Sounds perfect. Shall we begin tomorrow?”

“Wonderful! Come by my office in the morning and we’ll start.”

She agreed and looked away for a second, grabbing her cup but not drinking from it. “Michael, since you’re here, there’s something I want to discuss with you. I have to say I am a bit concerned about Eleanor. I know it is only logical considering all she’s been through, but we are ten days into the experiment and she’s already incredibly tired.”

Her brow creased and her cheekbones turned blue as worry darkened her face.

“I’ve talked to Jason and Janet about this. She says playing Architect must be exhausting for her, and that we cannot do anything about it, but Jason and I believe she’s not sleeping. Michael, she detests going to that house. Everything must remind her of Chidi: their bed, their kitchen, their  _ shower _ . She’s never to be found there... We’ve invited her to spend nights here or at Jason’s place, trying to help her relax and have fun, but we know it is not a permanent solution.”

“I know, Tahani, and I agree with the two of you. I actually wanted to bring this up now that Eleanor isn’t here. I’m stomped. I even removed the clown paintings from her walls, to see if that brought her some peace, but it doesn’t seem to have helped much.”

“Oh, I’m sure it did help at some degree. Those paintings were  _ horrid _ .” 

“That is true. No human in the entire universe could want clowns hanging on their walls or sliding through their living room.” She stared at him, confused. “Right, you don’t remember that part yet. You’ll see. I- It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

He cleared his throat.

“As for Eleanor… I’m seriously worried about her. I’ve been trying to think of alternatives but I haven’t come up with something that doesn’t put at risk the integrity of the experiment. Anything could expose us.”

“Exactly. We’ve thought about asking her to move in with one of us permanently, but the residents would surely think that’s suspicious. And Eleanor would never accept she needs this.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” Michael’s eyes opened widely as an idea ―a good idea, maybe the perfect idea― popped into his head. He stood and glanced at his friend. “I have a plan. I’ll take care of this.”

He rushed to the door in jumpy steps as Tahani tried to catch up with him.

“Michael, wait! What’s the plan?”

He turned around and raised his voice, walking backwards in her front garden, sun setting on his back. “I’ll explain tomorrow. I have to go!”

* * *

Michael sat on his chair, determined to wait. He knew she would be here at any time. His hands reached for a file so he could pretend to actually be doing something when she arrived, but couldn’t read a word of it, too excited and intrigued to focus on anything but the blueprint in his drawer.

The knock on his door didn’t wait for an answer and Eleanor’s head appeared. She had always hated that habit from her mother, but didn’t seem to realize she copied it on numerous occasions. He smiled at her. “Eleanor! Hi!”

“Hey, buddy. Got a minute?”

“Of course.” He signaled for her to sit on the other side of the desk ―today, unbeknownst to her,  _ he  _ was the Architect― and observed her. “What is it?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about Brent. What our next move should be. The biggest difference between that idiot and me is that I’ve always known I’m straight trash, and he thinks he made the universe a favor basically by being born. Which means we were aiming this the wrong way. Telling him about the Best Place was a step in the right direction, but we need to press harder. What if we force him to connect with someone. Like really  _ connect _ with someone, if you know what I mean.”

“I doubt we can get any volunteers for that assignment.”

“That’s a good point. I think I’d rather die a third time than getting near the guy. And I’d kill him again before letting him get close to Tahani.”

“On the other hand, you didn’t seem to opposed to a similar idea in Attempt #47.” He began to laugh at the sound of her gasp.

“Dude! Low blow! What did we say about bringing up old reboots? That was a  _ different  _ Eleanor, one that… kinda sucked at ethics.” She solemnly waved a hand at her own face, looking a bit smug. “You are looking at the new and improved Eleanor… Ultimate version, baby.”

Her legs propped up on his desk and her arms crossed over her chest before she continued talking. “And by the way, if anyone wasn’t opposed to that idea (Mindy’s idea, not mine, just to be clear), it wasn’t precisely me.”

“Don’t you dare, I snapped my fingers instantly!”

“I dunno, seemed to me you took a good look before that. I don’t blame you, buddy, I’d do the same thing.”

“I did not do such thing. As I told you, I’m physically incapable of gauging human attractiveness.”

“Fine. Either way, you were in the lower digits so no judgement. But let’s go back to Brent, buddy. What should we do? Got any ideas in that eternal mind of yours?”

“We should make him confront that his actions push people away and cause harm. It’s tricky, though, because when he’s isolated, he puts the blame on everyone else: to him, they leave him alone because he’s better than them.”

“Argh, it’s like looking into a creepy bearded mirror. But I was in denial. He  _ really _ buys that shirt.”

Michael kept waiting and waiting. 

Diversions seemed to be working so far and he was sure, as he peeked at the darkened sky over the window, that his cue would make an appearance soon. The key was to bring up the subject in a natural, almost innocent, way. He continued the discussion around Brent, taking notes of different plans they came up, and then moved on to John and Simone. He even brought up his new project with Tahani to keep her there. He had to be there and witness the very moment at which she-

“When we do Shrinking Day next week, we totally should-” She got cut off by her own yawn.

_ Bingo. _

“You’re tired, Eleanor. And it’s getting late. You should rest.”

“What? ‘M not tired. I was just... thinking about Linda! You know, so boring. Just thinking about her first day here makes me ya-”.

Another one already? She was making this almost easy for him! 

“And that one, well, thinking about yawning makes you yawn. It’s a… human thing.” 

He raised a brow and stayed silent.  _ Keep waiting _ .

He saw her tighten her jaw and hold her breath for a second before roughly exhaling through her nose. She knew he had caught her. He squinted his eyes at her and rested his face on his chin, studying her. That did it.

“Fine! I’ll go.” She clicked her tongue and stood up, preparing to leave. “Way to kick-”

“I said you needed to rest, not that you needed to go.”

She stopped on her tracks and stared at him, confused. “What?”

“I’ve recently been thinking about something. You’re here most of the time, and this is now your office as much as it is mine. You should have a room here.”

She still stared at him, unresponsive. After all this time, he could still surprise her.

“I’m not saying you should move in, if you don’t want to. But it could be convenient, in case of an experiment emergency or a late night of planning, such as this one. But- But it’s more than that. Don’t you think the residents might find it odd that I, your supposed Assistant, live here, in  _ your _ office, while you travel half a neighborhood to reach your home? None of the humans have seen you in the house yet, but we still have a year to go. And I think I spotted John looking through a window a few days ago. He must’ve been wondering who lives in such a…  _ peculiar _ little place.”

As proud as he was of his argument, a little smirk or an exaggerated phrasing must have given him away, because she was scrutinizing him in a way he knew all too well. Fork.

So much for surprising her.

“I think you’re right”, she said.

_ What? _

“I have to admit you’re making decent points, Michael.” She nodded, too serious to be  _ actually _ serious, and he realized- “Maybe I  _ should _ move in… just in case of a neighborhood emergency, of course.”

She was playing along.

He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding back and snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

A spiral staircase of the same material as their desk appeared at his right, in the back corner of the office. It went up a dark opening to a new floor where Eleanor’s new place was. He’d had Janet build the construction as soon as he left Tahani’s house and made it invisible to the human eye, willing to not give Eleanor a single second to change her mind as soon as she agreed. That was because he thought it would be more difficult to convince her. But the sneaky little so-and-so had seen, once again, right through his façade, and now decided to keep up the game. 

Unfortunately, that also meant his friend was aware of needing a change of scenery, for which Michael regretted not doing this sooner. Or not even asking her if she still wanted to live in the clown house after erasing Chidi’s memory.

“Would you like to take a look?”

“Fork, yeah!” 

He watched her sprint up the steps and smiled widely. He didn’t need to look at his chest to understand he felt truly  _ happy _ . And now, it seemed justified. He followed her, two steps at a time, and as he reached the top, he saw her gaping at the space.

“Dude, you said a room. I kinda expected a bathroom, too, but this is a forking house.”

“It’s a loft, actually. But it’s pretty well equipped and has some… hidden jewels.” He walked to the kitchen and pressed a button under the counter. Her never-ending shrimp dispenser from Attempt #802 slid out of a wall and she grinned, immediately grabbing a cocktail. “Holy shirt!”

“There’s a movie collection in the living room. And if you raise that paperweight, the shelves will turn around to reveal moral philosophy books, so you can hide the fact that you’ve become a gigantic nerd.”

She loudly retorted something that he couldn’t understand, since her mouth was full of shrimp.

"Fine! A tiny nerd."

He continued his mini-tour pointing at the different sections of the apartment. “Bathroom, arcade room. And your bedroom is on the first floor. Second, if you count the office.”

“I didn’t get stairs in my first house so now you’re giving me a thousand of them?”

“I can change the design however you want. You’ve always wanted a place with multiple floors and now you technically have three.” He placed one palm on her shoulder, thrilled at her beaming smile. “But we can sit at the office or by the dining table and work on it until it’s perfect. It’s your call to make.”

“Dude, it’s a joke. This  _ is _ perfect. The kind of place only an all-powerful demon who read my entire life could build.”

He gave her back another smile, as wide as hers was. His hand traveled to his chest: that warm feeling was back. And he loved it.

“So now you  _ are _ going to go rest?”

Her eyes were fixed on his face as her mouth opened and closed, trying to get words out. She glanced around the place, biting her lower lip, and sighed.

“I am.” She passed through him, rubbing his forearm when she reached his side. “You’re a great friend, Michael. The best, for real.” Her voice lowered as if she was about to share a secret. “And tell the others I’ll be fine. You guys don’t need to worry so much about me.”

Before he could respond, she was going up the stairs to her room.

One could not simply  _ fool  _ Eleanor Shellstrop.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been a bit slow to update because exams have been crazy. And next week is particularly insane but it’s technically my last so things should normalize after that.  
> There was a lot more going on in my original draft of this chapter but it turned out to be quite long and I wanted to post something new so the rest will have to be in the next one. (Clue: ‘roomies’).  
> I wasn’t planning on writing about Tahani getting her memories back, but since Rose got curious and she’s the one who basically encouraged me to write this story, I decided to add a sub-plot. I also love the dynamic she and Michael have in Season 1 and wanted to give her something to do since her character is a little underused in Season 4.
> 
> Headcanon: Michael has one hell of a sweet tooth.


	4. Home is Where the Soul Is

For the first time since the experiment had started, Eleanor slept through the entire night. Without vivid dreams about the neighborhood and finally able to fight her insomnia, she remembered how good it felt to be well rested.

God (or Upper Management) bless Michael.

The pillows and covers against her skin felt softer than any other she'd known before, better even than the most expensive beds at Bed, Bath and Beyond, where she dropped herself into as soon as the employees were out of sight. She seemed sunk into the mattress, every muscle supported by its firm structure. Her eyes struggled to open up.

Getting up would be impossible, for sure.

It wasn't as perfect as sleeping with company, with  _ his  _ company, but it was still pretty good. And the best part of it was that it was kind of a gift from her friends. She knew they were worried about her, but she was fine… Or at least, she would be. She just needed a little bit of time. Eleanor would get over it, she always did. 

She smiled as she remembered the events from the previous night. She would never,  _ ever  _ tell Michael she realized his voice grew deeper when he was plotting something. Nope, that would remain as her secret little weapon. She knew he read her in more ways than she could understand, but ―even without all nine dimensions― she wasn't that far behind him. She had hundreds of years of practice, after all. This time, his overly dramatic frown when he mentioned John and the almost imperceptible smirk that wrapped up his speech were dead giveaways: he was bullshirting her.

And she adored him for it.

She didn't want to admit the house was the problem. And until that moment, she didn't. C'mon, it was just a stupid house, nothing in there could hurt her! But it was. And it did. After she got her memories back, it only got worse: she tossed and turned all night, waking every few minutes disoriented and confused, wondering in which of the 800 versions of her afterlife was she in now, only to stretch out a hand, used to having Chidi next to her, and have it fall on the sheets. 

She was alone. 

And she just decided she wouldn't sleep anymore. She was dead already, so what was the worst thing that could happen to her?

Still, Michael (and she assumed the rest of her friends, too, considering all the nights she spent at their places) managed to realize the actual problem. And the guy brought it up as a  _ tactical  _ move for the neighborhood. She almost laughed at that, it was truly the perfect excuse. Too bad she saw right through it.

Eleanor knew why he did it, though. As if she would ever admit she was a wimp and her house made her  _ sad _ : that was pathetic. But  _ they  _ didn't believe that. They just wanted to take care of her. It was still weird sometimes, knowing people were just  _ there _ , supporting her, all of them supporting each other. A small part of her kept saying she should take a step back, protect herself before they let her down. Her other part was winning, though. She loved her Soul Squad. And they loved her back.

She had come to terms with the fact that Michael knew everything about her when she realized that came with some perks. And this place was certainly one of them.

_ Shellstrop, you're a spoiled little bench _ . 

She smirked and stirred, wondering just how bad it would be to sleep in one single morning. As her eyes closed again, almost against her will, she decided she kinda deserved it, and thought how lucky she was to have been hand-picked by the nicest demon in the universe.

* * *

A couple of hours later, showered and dressed, she went down the stairs to the office and found Tahani already there, sitting opposite to Michael. 

"Hey, babe! What's up?"

Michael stood and positioned himself on top of the desk, motioning with a nod for Eleanor to sit on the chair. "This is the first day of our little project with Tahani. You got here just in time. We are about to begin."

She still felt a bit small for the Architects Chair and wondered why he would move if there was no resident to assume she was in charge. He always did that and she still hadn’t figured out why. Her eyes examined his face, trying to trace an answer on his calm expression, until Tahani drew her attention.

"Darling, Michael has told me all about the new living arrangements. I must say I believe it is a very clever decision that will surely be good for the experiment.”

Damn, her friend was lucky to be rich and hot, because she was a  _ lousy  _ liar. Eleanor would’ve died at 25 with that lack of skill.

“It was a very…  _ thoughtful  _ plan.” She smiled at him, knowing he would read between the lines, and saw him staring at her with that same expression he had on his face last night. It seemed like he was studying her.

He stretched out an index finder to touch her shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

She sighed, holding his eyes. “Yeah. I really did. Thanks, Michael.”

When she turned to look at Tahani, her friend was glancing back and forth at the two of them. 

“Babe?”

“Hm? Oh! So, how does this work, exactly?” She asked, moving a hand between the two of them, before rushing to add, with a nervous laugh, “The memories, I mean. Of course.”

_ Well, what else could she possibly mean? _

“It’s quite simple. I just snap my fingers and we're done. The difficult part is in the internal workings of the mechanism and in the tiring task your brain needs to keep up to. One of the reasons I think we should go slower than I did with Eleanor is because I want to see if the side effects she experienced are related to the amount of reboots recalled or to the process itself.”

Michael straightened and turned around the desk, facing Tahani.

“The changes I prepared for today allow the memories to take a few… shortcuts through the brain, so we don’t overload your prefrontal cortex. I was thinking we could start with... the first 30 reboots, maybe?” His hand grazed his chin and Tahani nodded.

"There's no need to be scared, Tahani." His tone was low and soothing, and Eleanor wondered what he was seeing with that magical perception of his.

And he snapped. 

She was convinced the aftermath was longer, and that what seemed to be hours had passed before she could open her eyes, but Tahani reacted almost instantly. Michael spoke and Eleanor recognized a small note of concern on his voice. 

“Tahani? How are you feeling?”

“Mai Bilqul Theek”, she responded, and her calm tone only freaked the fork out of Eleanor, who went to stand next to them.

“What?”, she deadpanned.

“Mai Bilqul Theek!”

“Michael, what did you  _ do _ ?! Wha- What is  _ she  _ doing?”

“I- I don’t know. This is not supposed to happen. What you’re listening to now is Urdu. It’s one of Pakistan’s official languages.” He turned to Eleanor and patted her shoulder. “But she’s saying she’s fine, so there’s no need for you to worry. I just think her language filter is broken.”

“There’s no…? Michael, what are the residents going to think? I really don’t think Brent hears fake heaven in  _ Urdu  _ .”

“Hang on. I’ll fix this. The residents won’t even know.” He snapped again.

Tahani intervened, confusion showing up in her face. “Mais écoutez, que se passe-t-il ?”

“Michael, even  _ I  _ can tell that wasn’t the same thing she just said. But it’s  _ not  _ English.”

“Alright, alright. One more.”

_ Snap  _ .

“Por que eles me olham assim?”

_ Snap. _

“¿Por qué sigues chasqueando tus dedos?”

“ _ Still  _ not English, buddy.”

_ Snap. _

“Could someone please explain to me what  _ on Earth  _ is happening?!”

Eleanor exhaled, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, she’s back. I understand now, it’s fine, we’re fine.”

Tahani looked at her two friends with her brows creased. “I am… quite confused. Did something happen to me?” She started touching her face and Eleanor was sure she feared having turned into a Picasso rip-off again. 

“You’re fine, babe. You just went full-Bible mode and started switching languages, so Michael had to zap you back into the right one.” She leaned her head towards him. “And, by the way, what were  _ you  _ hearing?”

“It’s hard to explain… But the colors around your ears helped me, so luckily we could sort this out fast.” Her confusion must have been visible because he elaborated. “Every human language has a corresponding color that appears around the speaker’s mouth and the listener’s ears. I just kept snapping until your ears were English blue.”

That  _ had  _ to be one of those nine dimensions. She should probably start writing these clues down.

Michael started to walk towards Tahani. “Okay. No more shortcuts. Are you feeling okay?” He extended a palm to touch her forearm but she leaned to the side, pulling away from him.

“Oh, I am fine. I simply need a minute.”

She was still smiling, but Eleanor knew her friend well enough to know her expression wasn’t entirely sincere. She frowned and placed her own hand on Michael’s arm. He took a few steps back and she stood by his side, not letting go. “Babe? It’s just Michael.” She pulled on his arm. “Dude, you should’ve started with the last ones.”

“I- I didn’t think of that. I could do it now. Tahani, would you-?”

“No! No, it’s fine for today, Michael. Thank you, I’ll go grab some fresh morning air. I will see you both later today.” The smile, all teeth and no eyes, never faltered as she walked through the door and left the office. Tahani probably didn’t know demons couldn’t fall for that.

Michael released himself off of her, leaned on the desk and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His head was bent down and she heard him mutter a curse.

“Hey! C’mon, it wasn’t that bad for the first day.”

He opened his eyes and contemplated the window, as he always did when he wouldn’t look at her. “She stormed off, Eleanor. This… This was exactly how I thought you would react. Well, to be honest, I thought you would throw something at me, but the general idea… Yeah.” His hands went to his pockets and he gave a little kick to the air. “I don’t blame her. She just saw me, over and over, torturing her and her  _ friends  _ . And only thirty times. What do you think she’ll do by Attempt #300? Or #700?”

“ _ You  _ are her friend, too. We’re all friends. She's just a little surprised, bud. And you did kinda show her the worst part. I mean, at one point you were mostly petty and tired, but the first ones?” She grimaced. “Sorry, not helpful. But still, show her the last one, how you grew and changed. I promise she will react the same way I did, totally cool.”

His voice was low but he dared to look back at her. He had that weird expression on his face again. “It was never the same with the rest. Not even in the last one.”

She knew he was right, though. During the last reboot, Michael spent more time apart with her than with the rest of the group. He got to bond with all of them, eventually, but it took more trials and failures than with her. He seemed at ease near Eleanor, almost eager to connect with her.

_ “I’m a pretty good liar” _

_ “You really are. I’ve always admired that about you.” _

“Then you need to talk to her, bro. I know it’s hard for you to think about your past, but you gotta be honest. Tahani knows you, she’s just… kinda shell-shocked.”

“I hope so. Having a resident suddenly hate me wouldn’t be a good sign for the subjects.” 

“Yeah, it’s the subjects you’re worried about. Sure. C’mon, we got work to do, buddy. And when we’re done, you go to Tahani’s house. Okay?

She pulled on his hand to drag him out of the office, but his steps were heavy and he still looked bummed.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

After an indeed  _ very  _ long day, when the sun started to set, Eleanor and Michael walked through the hallway that preceded the waiting room of their office.

"You said you would go to Tahani’s mansion and you  _ are going to go  _ . If I could tell Madison I forked up her dress, you can do this. Don’t make me drag you there."

"I- I should give her some time. We shouldn't rush things. Maybe tomorrow?"

He opened the door with one arm and she felt the presence of his hand hovering near her back as he let her pass.

"Cut the crap, you just hate confront- Tahani! You're here!"

The woman was sitting on the couch, hands crossed over her lap, and stood as soon as she saw them. Her smile, her real smile, was back, accompanied by a somewhat shy look on her eyes.

"Hello, all. I- I would like to speak with Michael for a while, if that's okay."

The guy was just standing there, frozen, so Eleanor pushed him from his back towards her.

"Of course! And what a coincidence, Michael here wanted to talk to you, too!" She saw him open his mouth to protest but she signaled Tahani to sit back down and kept talking. "So, I'll be upstairs. 'Night, gorgeous!"

Eleanor gave Michael a reassuring smile before entering the office. Once there, she took a last peek at the two of them, and saw him sitting on the ottoman, in front of her, still looking down. Then Tahani reached out to grab his arm and started talking, so she knew it was time for her to leave them alone.

Everything would be fine.

***

Settling into a routine already seemed easy at her new place. She'd never had a house perfectly tailored to her needs and desires and, as much as she loved the clown house, Chidi was right: it was made to torture her. Things were never where she left them, the furniture was weird and she  _ constantly  _ bumped her little toe into tables and chairs.

She would make sure to ask Michael for a few changes when she got back.

Her usual energy was pumping again. For the first time in her life, Eleanor felt like what she did had  _ meaning _ . And a big one. She missed Chidi, but she also knew he had an important role in this task, so they still kinda shared something, even if he didn't know it.

She went into the kitchen and stood in front of the small cabinet next to the fridge. Michael had told her she just had to think of what she wanted and the food would materialize inside.

A few minutes later, she was settling a cup of coffee and a full box of glazed donuts on top of the desk, while she handed Michael a healthy portion of chocolate and caramel flavored frozen yogurt. She raised one palm at him so he wouldn't stand and sat on the chair opposite him.

"Oh, my favorite! Thank you, Eleanor."

"Honestly, I don't get how you can actually like this stuff, man... So, all good with Tahani last night?"

His face appeared behind the notes he was reading and he grinned, taking a spoonful of yogurt. “Yes, yes. We had a long talk about her life, the reboots, my…” ―he paused to clear his throat― “my past and many things she does not remember yet. She said it was a bit of a shock to see me so ‘different’, but that the reason she left was not that, but the memories themselves. Confronting the  _ ways  _ in which she had been tortured was overwhelming. It made her question many things about her time on Earth.”

He must have realized Eleanor wasn’t looking straight at him, because he frowned and checked his chest, a hand straightening his shirt and a question on his eyes. 

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time she has one of those crisis. But I’m glad you guys worked it out. See? We trust you. Promise. We know you wouldn’t  _ lie  _ to us or get all dark-side again.”

He looked uncomfortable. Maybe he wasn't convinced by that. But Eleanor had the feeling her latest idea ―the one that popped into her mind only a minute ago, when she set eyes on Michael― would cheer him up, so she stood.

“Hey, I’m gonna go upstairs real quick. I wanna try something.”

“Eleanor, wait! I need to-” 

“Hold that thought, I'll be right back.”

Shortly after, she came back down pointing at her own chest with her hands. “Well, whaddya think?”

“You changed?”

“Well, yeah, but can’t you see why?”

“I guess... your skin tone and hair color lay near yellow in the human color spectrum, which would make it an appropriate choice of clothing to contrast with your eyes.”

Weirdest compliment ever, but she’d take it. “No, dummy, I’m matching your bow tie. The other day, I noticed we were both wearing the same color and, I dunno, we looked like a cool heavenly duo. Very Architect-y vibe. And now that I live here, I thought we could keep it up.”

He gasped and clapped his hands together, laughing. “Oh, matching outfits! Like those families on vacations or- or like a band. Oh, I love it! It’s so dumb and exciting!”

Oh, the adorable dork. She knew this would make him happy.

“Well, not full outfits. No need to go all family Halloween here, but color schemes would be nice. Where are your clothes?”

He stood and pushed on the walls of the office, where an opening appeared. Eleanor stuck her head inside and saw an endless line of suits hanging on a rack.

“Does this place have an end?”

“Of course, it’s not infinite. I only have about a million suits.”  _ Only?  _ “I have to repeat them sometimes, and there are a few I find itchy, so I don’t wear them.”

Eleanor shook her head, eyes wide. At least matching would be easy with  _ a million suits  _ to combine.

“Weird that you keep your clothes here in the office and not in your place. Where’s your magical staircase, by the way? You’re always already here when I get up. Got a demonic pet you don’t wanna show us?”

He frowned at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your place. I mean, I know you don’t sleep but you can’t tell me you spend all night sitting on this desk.”

He blinked a couple of times. “I- I go out for a stroll on occasions, but the rest of the time, yes." Her jaw fell, gawking at him. "I don’t really see the problem, Eleanor, I don’t use bedrooms or bathrooms or any of those things. I simply never saw the need for anything else other than this”, he added, waving a hand around him.

Eleanor couldn’t believe it. These past two nights she went to bed thinking he would go rest or watch a movie somewhere else, only for him to stay there, flattening his butt on that chair all night long. She stood, landing one hand on the desk and pointing the other one at his face.

“You need a proper home, dude.” She smiled. “You’re moving in with me.”

His brow creased, still confused. “There’s no need for you to do this. I built that place for  _ you _ . I don't need it."

“Exactly! You built that for me and didn’t do squat for yourself... Look, you said we could change the design however I wanted. This is what I want. Stash your infinite wardrobe there, add another thousand stairs, anything. I don't care, I just… think you should stay. With me."

She really hoped he didn't think she was doing this because she was lonely or some shirt like that, because it truly wasn't. She missed living with Chidi, but this was about Michael himself. She saw his reaction when Tahani stormed off and felt the way he unbinded himself from her. Just like her, he was still pulling back, not yet willing to let himself go. But hey, it wasn’t like Eleanor was going to wake up one day realizing he was a demon. She knew that. They all did. If anything, the six of them were the best versions of themselves because they grew together. And they needed to stick that way.

Maybe they both needed this, more than they would admit outloud. 

“Let me tell ya, dude. There’s no more  _ human  _ experience than having a roomie.”

His eyes opened, widely, and he grinned.

Of course that would do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like the second part of chapter 3 than chapter 4, but I thought posting more often (though shorter chapters) might be better. Please tell me if you prefer longer chapters with a few days in between or shorter ones every other day or so.
> 
> I'm afraid to go too slowly before the story gets more intense and I don't want to bore you with the set up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chidi Anagonye

"Hey, hey. Look at me. It's all going to be okay." As soon as he closed the door on Chidi’s face, he hurried back to the desk and his hand went back to caress Eleanor’s shoulder. When he saw the tears falling on her hawaiian shirt, his palm directed itself to the constriction on his chest, to check if he was still breathing.

Stupid emotions.

Stupid, irrational and contagious human emotions.

Michael could describe regret as a sour and hard ball on the back of one’s throat and sadness as a heavy grey rain that fell down the heads of humans, dragging a thick liquid onto their shoulders and pushing them down. He used to find funny, or at least curious, that ―even though they couldn’t perceive it― mortals experienced the effects of this wearying feeling on their bodies. But now, all he could think about was how to make it stop, from what material should he build the umbrella that got her out of this, or how often should he sweep the air around her to clean it off. 

He knew the substance was sticky, that it didn’t really leave its host as much as it boarded the being that dared to console its victim. It didn't matter to him, he was already full of it himself.

But he just wanted it off of Eleanor.

Her voice, muffled by the small hands that hid her face, was barely understandable. "I'm a monster." 

“You’re  _ not  _ a monster.”

Eleanor Shellstrop had only cried seven times in her life after turning fourteen and emancipating her parents. She thought it a sign of weakness, a symptom of vulnerability that only creeped up on her when she contemplated either dying as a bitter, lonely old woman ―and well, she didn’t― or having a normal childhood with a normal, even boring family. 

He made her sob on two Attempts, after which she obviously realized the truth. But on #234, tears started running down her face  _ after  _ she said the words.

_ "I’m already in the Bad Place, aren’t I?" _

Michael was sure he could never erase from his mind that look of broken betrayal. 

After teaming up with them, he watched her cry three more times. This was the fourth.

He felt almost dirty knowing all these facts about her. As if she weren't  _ real _ , as if she were only a name and a list inside a file, and not  _ someone _ ―and not just 'someone', she was Eleanor― suffering. Crying was not a chore or an anecdote. It was a leak on the toughest dam he’d ever known. Or the contents of your favorite sandwich falling on your pants, to put it in more human words.

“I  _ am  _ . I'm punishing him, Michael. You heard him."

His hand moved to her upper back as he straightened to find more tissues. "You're not. You just went a little bit off the rails, that's all. You didn’t hurt him. Chidi will be fine."

"Fork, what did I do?" She paused to loudly blow her nose. "Lying to him is one thing, I need to do that so humanity won't get blown up. But I'm just making him miserable right now. I just  _ tortured  _ the person I love the most in the universe."

He sighed and sat on the desk. Tricky subject, to say the least.

"Eleanor, listen. I know how you feel. There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think about all the time I spent doing that to you, who are the first five beings I ever cared about. But this is not the Bad Place, Chidi is not being punished for living a ‘bad life’. He… is taking a test. He needed a push in the right direction, an incentive to help people. And we gave it to him. Making a mistake and taking it a little too far does not make you a bad person. You’re not a monster, Eleanor.” She shook her head. “Chidi had a very rough day today, but he’ll be fine tomorrow. When he decided to erase his memories, he knew the risks. When he remembers, he’ll understand.”

“He’ll feel like I’m punishing him, for leaving me. And would that be a lie? He made a huge sacrifice and this is how I pay him.”

Michael rubbed his temples. That sacrifice subject, again. He gave up a lot, yes, but he wasn’t the one suffering. It was Eleanor who was in pain, who missed him, who had to lie and hide her feelings every single day. He took a deep breath and looked around him, trying to get rid of that confusing mixture of emotions that threatened him whenever he thought about Chidi. 

Anger and confusion. Some things just never changed.

When the air came out of his mouth, it did so with a whisper he couldn’t help but release. “You don’t deserve this, Eleanor.”

Her face lifted from her hands and her brow creased. “What?”

“Nothing. I- I’m sorry.” He stood, needing to stretch his legs, and turned to his side. He wouldn’t turn his back on her, and this was as close as he could get to it. But he couldn’t shut up, not while knowing she was aching. “Although, can I just say one thing? Chidi spent his  _ life  _ hurting people with his indecisiveness. And now, he makes a decision that just- it just ends up hurting you.”

His head lowered to the floor and he hoped she, for some reason, wouldn’t listen to his words, that he could remove them from his essence and have them land in a stranded dimension where no one would be able to realize how selfish he was for needing to say this, but he had to.

“I don’t know if I believe that is something worthy of admiration.”

He dared to face her and found the same confusion drifting above Eleanor. “But you…  _ You  _ are the one who has to deal with this insane situation. You have a ton on your shoulders right now, and much of that is my fault. For which, again, I’m sorry. Just, please, don’t be this hard on yourself.”

She took a shaky breath, shedding a few tears off her face, and spoke in a calm tone. “You’ve never lost your memories, Michael. No offense, but I’m not sure you understand what Chidi gave up.”

He briefly looked down before mumbling an answer. “Maybe I don’t. There are things I would rather like to forget.”

“I know that. But, for Chidi, it’s different. It’s losing his identity.”

His back landed on the desk again, as he finally started to relax. His hand went to squeeze her shoulder, as he watched her begin to regain her composure. At least she didn’t seem to hate him for saying all those things about her own boyfriend. Or well, as she asked them to call him now, her ‘ex-boyfriend’. It wasn’t like it made any difference, but it appeared to ease her, somehow. 

“Eleanor, I’m sorry. I feel like I made everything worse. But you don’t deserve to feel the pain you’re feeling now. I just- I just wish I could make it stop."

She stood and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it. The trace of her tears was still on her face, drawing a path from her bright, sad eyes to the line of her jaw. "No, you didn't. And that's empathy, buddy. Very human of you."

One last tear threatened to fall off before Eleanor blinked a couple of times to hide it away. His fingers tingled as they tried to stop themselves from reaching out to dry her cheeks.

_ Don't touch her. Not like this. _

"Are you going to be okay?" His voice still came out as a whisper, for no reason and for all of them. There was no one else there to suspect of a crying Architect and no possible secret her response could contain. Michael even felt like he knew what she would say, since before his words got out. That didn’t mean he was not ashamed of his own thoughts: he cared, very deeply, for Chidi, and his opinion mattered to him in ways that were not always easy to understand; but he couldn’t bear seeing Eleanor like this.

"Of course I am."

_ Of course. _

She let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, as she started crying again. Michael held her, knowing he would stay there for as long as she needed.

_ Welcome to the business. _

_ It sucks. You're gonna hate it. _

_ A quick warning: once you open your eyes, you're too far gone to quit. Your allies become friends and four souls turn into all of them. _

Maybe they never left the Bad Place after all.

"Everything is fine, Eleanor. You and Chidi will be fine."

* * *

The next day, Michael left the house before Eleanor woke up. As the sun rose, he turned off the TV and left the living room, directing himself towards his new "room", which was basically the new location of his wardrobe and his collection of human objects. The place hadn't changed much apart from that, but they had made it bigger: improving her bedroom, adding more couches and chairs to have their friends over, and upgrading the arcade with a bowling alley and a karaoke machine, for old times' sake.

_ "You coming upstairs, right?" _

_ "Are you sure you want to share your place with me?" _

_ "Our office, our place, dude. C'mon, I've got a few ideas for this place." _

He grabbed the wrapped package Janet had given him the previous night and stepped out of the place.

Chidi had always been an early bird.

Michael reached the apartment and saw natural light peeking from the door, confirming his friend was awake. He knocked and planted his best Assistant smile on his face.

"Michael! Good morning! I was just about to have some tea, care to join me?"

"Well, thank you, Chidi, that's very kind of you."

They sat on Chidi's armchairs, opposite one another. Michael eyed the scratched marks on his friend’s seat and gave himself an idea of what the previous week had meant to him.

"So, what brings you here?" Chidi poured tea in two cups on top of the coffee table (oh, humans and the contradictory names they chose for their furniture) and handed one to Michael.

"For starters, I wanted to give you this." He gave the package to Chidi, who frowned. Michael smiled in anticipation, looking down to add four sugar cubes to his tea cup, as he heard the sound of tearing paper.

"Michael? Is this-?" 

He glanced at Chidi. His frown was still there but now joined by a wide smile and that same bright yellow ball on his chest. He had to admit joy and confusion made a nice combination of human emotions.

"That, Chidi, is a collection of drafts of Nietzsche’s earlier works. They’re written on the back of discarded music sheets he never finished composing, and contain notes on Schopenhauer, greek mythology and metaphysics. And now, they are yours."

"Oh, wow! Wow! These must be the sheets that, well, that gave  _ birth  _ to  _ The Birth of Tragedy  _ . This is wonderful, Michael. Thank you. Thank you so much. I- I- This is unbelievable."

Michael smiled. Once he started to befriend the humans, he realized he actually _ liked  _ giving presents. Not slightly rigged objects as torture, nor bribes, but real gifts. He enjoyed using his knowledge of them for something good, and give them things they didn't expect, but that they would most likely appreciate. Also, words did not always come easy for him, so they seemed like a good way to communicate his own feelings. And after what happened the night before, Michael was certainly having trouble understanding what to make up of his own brain. He decided to visit Chidi, fueled by a little bit of guilt and a larger bit of concern. And maybe, just maybe, to plant the seed for one or two ideas in that noodle of his.

He leaned forward and met the man's eyes.

"You're welcome, Chidi. Now, how are you today? You didn't have an easy evening, and I wanted to apologize for that. Your existence here should be entirely pleasant and, apparently, that was not the case."

"Don't worry, Michael, I'm feeling much better. And I know none of this is your fault, or Eleanor's, so there's no need for you to apologize. How is she, by the way? It's weird to see you guys apart."

"She's on a routine call with our bosses right now." Actually, she was either still snoring like a sailor or waking up and wondering where he was. "So I thought I could drop by for a minute and check in on you, while she’s busy. As for your question, Eleanor is feeling better as well.” The man in front of him sighed, visibly relaxing. “Don’t worry, Chidi, what happened last night was not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, I just feel like I let my own problems cause her harm, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. You guys have an entire neighborhood to run, I shouldn’t bother you with my problems.”

Michael decided to speak to the Chidi of the present, sitting in front of him now, but also to the one of the future, to the Chidi who would, one day, remember this conversation knowing what Eleanor really meant to him. 

“Yes, you should, because it’s our responsibility to look after you. As we told you back in the office, Eleanor promised she would take care of you, so seeing you in pain is not easy for her.” Michael leaned back a little. “You know this is the first neighborhood she’s designed, don’t you?”

“Yes, she told me that during our first week here.”

“Well, don’t you think it makes sense that she might feel a little nervous on occasions? I have been an Assistant in many neighborhoods, and I guarantee you that the first few weeks are usually very puzzling for Architects. I don’t know how I could handle that pressure myself. Which is why it’s important that you talk to us ―that you talk to her―, so we know how to help when you feel like you need something. And also to know when you’re happy. I bet she’ll be delighted to hear you are feeling better.”

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense. Designing an entire plane of reality, suddenly being in charge of hundreds of human beings and making sure they’re happy doesn’t sound like an easy task. But I guess I never thought an immortal being could feel... anxious. That seems so  _ human  _ .”

“Well, you and Eleanor might share more things than what meets the eye. Can I confide you with a little secret, Chidi?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“You are one of her favorite residents. And do you know why? She admires you. Because you always work to find the answers that put more good into the universe. We, as immortals, don’t usually ask too many questions. We are given jobs, and we do them. So meeting people like you, who dedicated their lives to examine the world they live in, and to wonder about their previously held beliefs, is inspiring. Most would have trouble to recognize that about a human, but Eleanor... Eleanor is special, Chidi. She’s always willing to learn and grow, which makes her incredibly inspiring, too. I have learnt more about the universe in the time I met her, than in all my previous eons of existence.”

Michael realized he meant every word he was saying. He was finally letting out some of the things he felt any time he crossed Chidi’s path, and understanding others as they came out of his mouth. It was easy for him to admit he found Eleanor fascinating, but the man in front of him presented different and more intricate challenges. Uncertainty and even restlessness followed all the ethics lessons he took with his friends, as Chidi made him question all the things he always thought to be true about morality and humans.

_ "You couldn’t hack the classes. They made you feel dumb and small." _

Eleanor, as usual, hit the nail with that. 

It frustrated him to no end. But now, as he spoke, he was able to recognize something else, to both his friend and to himself. He crossed his legs and rested his head on one hand.

“And I admire you, too, Chidi.”

He had not lied to Eleanor the previous night. He was never convinced that erasing Chidi's memory was the right move for the experiment, but that was not his call to make. For him, it only led to Eleanor's suffering. And that was more than enough to deem it a bad idea in Michael's eyes.

But now, he admitted that this part of Chidi's soul, the same one that made him feel constantly insufficient, was maybe something to look up to. 

He fought the urge to clear his throat and simply took a deep breath, placing his now empty cup on the table. When he met Chidi’s eyes, he was smiling in a somewhat nervous way, brows raised, and fidgeted with his hands as he spoke.

“I feel like- I mean, I am obviously flattered, but it feels weird to hear eternal beings talk like that about  _ me  _ . On Earth, people were usually frustrated hearing me talk about moral principles and ethics and philosophy.”

_ Oh, Chidi, not just on Earth. _

Michael just smiled at him.

“Can I ask how long you and Eleanor have known each other?”

“Not for a long time, only a little over 300 years. I know it sounds like a lot for you, but I- we have been alive since the dawn of time, so it’s not really that much. Still, some of those years have truly been the best of my existence.”

“And how did you guys meet?”

Michael couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that question, as he tried to figure out the best possible answer in their current situation. This was about the present Chidi just as much as it was about the future one, the Chidi who remembered it all.

“Let’s just say she had quite the reputation where I used to have my previous job. So, when I had the chance to work with her, I jumped right into it.”

“It sounds like you think very highly of her.”

“I really do. I care very deeply about her.” He paused and, at the major risk of confusing the present Chidi, he spoke to the future one. “And I’m looking after her, Chidi, so don’t worry. I promise.”

His friend looked reasonably baffled, so he elaborated, for the sake of the experiment. They still had almost a year with  _ this  _ Chidi, after all. “I mean, I promise she will be fine and you don’t have to worry about the events of the previous night.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “And it’s my job, as her Assistant, to help her in any way she needs, especially as she begins to settle into her position as Architect here. Well, it’s time for me to leave. Eleanor has surely finished her meeting and we have work to do.” As Chidi stood, too, he placed one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for the tea.” 

“Please, Michael, anytime. And thank  _ you  _ for everything.”

They both headed for the door and Michael started to step out when he thought of one more thing to say, something to make use of the events of the previous night. They dealt with the pressure, but now they needed to make sure they could get something out of it.

“Do you know why you are in the Good Place, Chidi?”

“Well, I spent my life in search of fundamental truths-” Michael cut him off raising a hand. He’d heard this too many times.

“ _ Helping people  _ . You spent your life trying to find the best ways to help people. It usually involved asking difficult questions, but it all came down to the way your answers ―whatever they were― put more good into the universe. Don’t get too caught up in your own brain, Chidi.” He shook a finger in his direction. “Helping people. Don’t ever forget that.”

He saw him nod many times, slowly at first and then more quickly, and he knew he got it. Now it was just a matter of putting it into practice. “I won’t forget it, Michael.”

“Very good. I will see you around the neighborhood.”

After Chidi closed the door behind him, Michael checked the time (‘fake’ Earth time, but it helped his friends be more organized. They thought giving him a watch was easier than trying to understand Jeremy Bearimy, for some reason). He looked around and, as he suspected, spotted Jason a few houses away. The man was studying the sky above him, so Michael drew his attention calling him and offering a solemn bow, one the ‘monk’ promptly returned.

There was no one close enough to see the knowing smiles on both their faces.

Adopting his best act as eternal, all powerful being, Michael stepped towards Jason.

“Jianyu! How are you on this lovely morning?”

He should’ve been an actor.  _ Although, if he had… _

If he had, things would be different right now. Too different to make it worth it.

Jason looked around, checking that no subjects were in the area and dared to speak. “Dawg, I’m just on my way to Chidi’s. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on him now. Know he had a tough night.” He nodded and narrowed his eyes, palming Michael’s chest. “I even left the fire extinguisher home, so I don’t get tempted.”

_ Okay. _

“I- I’m glad to hear that, I suppose. But listen, Jason, I just visited Chidi myself. If my hunch is correct, he should offer to teach you ethics the moment you walk through that door. I think we are finally on track with this experiment. Then, all we need is to convince the rest of the group to join in as well.”

“Dope! I need some gel pens. I’ll be back.”

Michael grabbed his friend’s shoulder right before he sprinted back to the other side of town. “Jason, wait. Don’t run so close to the residents. Here.” He materialized a handful of colorful pens out of his empty chest pocket and handed them to his friend. “There you go. Now go meet Chidi.”

“Woah, you’re a magician, too? That's so cool, homie!”

Michael laughed and watched him leave, suddenly wondering if maybe a different hobby could replace acting after the experiment, when he had more time. He saw Chidi open the door once again, and quickly let Jason in before closing it. He started to make his way back into the office, but stopped after taking a few steps, and looked back. Maybe-

He shouldn’t.

But it could save them some time, and he would have news to share with Eleanor after being absent for a good part of the morning. Besides, Jason was not precisely keeping secrets from  _ him  _ , unbeknownst to Chidi.  _ Ah, just this one time  _ . Michael sneaked back to the door and planted his ear on it.

He tried to deduct the weird sounds coming from the apartment.  _ What- _

Oh, Jason was air-guitaring. Of course. Michael waited for almost five minutes and was about to give up when Chidi’s voice appeared, finally ending that strange rendition of- he guessed it could be called  _ music  _ . 

“Jason: new plan. Instead of just trying to not get caught, we’re going to study ethics. I am going to  _ help  _ you become a good person.”

_ Excellent  _ . 

“Oh, dope! I always wanna get better. That’s why I spent so much of my time at the free clinic.”

_ Well, enough Jason for one morning. _

When he finally made his way back into the office, he met Eleanor's eyes as she looked up at him from the desk.

“There you are! Where have you been all morning?”

For now, only one of the seeds planted in Chidi’s head had time to sprout, so he decided it might be best to not bring the other one up, yet. 

“Just taking a turn around the neighborhood.” She frowned briefly before grabbing a piece of silk folded on top of the desk. A quick look to the woman in front of him confirmed what he already knew: same shades of blue. Good thing he left his pocket empty today. "I'm guessing that's for me."

As Michael rested his back on the desk, he wondered why was Eleanor so invested in this idea. He obviously found it fun ―in addition to entirely pointless, which somehow made it more fun― and he was a little thrilled at the thought of sharing something so trivial with her, but he also suspected there was something else, a special component that drove her to insist on this. Her life story, as usual, didn’t do much to figure her out. If there was something Michael learned over the years, it was that Eleanor Shellstrop was quite unpredictable.

“Yep. You weren’t here when I got up so, when Janet dropped by, I asked her for one of these cloth thingies.”

He reached out to grab the handkerchief but she stood and placed it inside his pocket herself. He watched her fingers fold the cloth a couple of times, his own hand hovering nearby, unsure of if it should take over. Michael saw the way her brow creased when she tried to fit it in his suit. Unpredictable, indeed. She looked better, certainly less sad than the night before. Not  _ happy  _ , but the hint of a smile was there. When she finished, she grimaced and sat back down.

“Ugh, that’s a mess. Should’ve let you do it. Not the kinda gal who knows of suits.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Looks fine." Michael looked down at his chest.  _ One could say fine. Doesn't really matter  _ . "Thank you.” He cleared his throat and paused, tilting his head to get a better look at her aura. “Are you feeling a little  _ blue  _ , perhaps?”

It was much harder to come up with puns about  _ grey  _ .

Eleanor just glared at him. What she didn’t know was that he sensed the sweet and slightly citric breeze of amusement that passed through the office. Not as easy to hide as a smile. Or as the answer to his question.

“I ran into Jason on my way here. It seems like our ‘monk’ got himself a new philosophy professor. Things last night might’ve gone better than we expected, after all, don’t you think? Brent and Simone are on the right path. And Chidi’s set with Jason now.” He sat on top of the desk and studied her. He was not going to drop the subject. “How are you doing?”

"A little better. But still terrible."

He didn't expect much more than that. 

"You were torturing him because that's what we had to do."

It wasn't punishment. It wasn't pain. Not for eternity, at least.

"I know. I went too far. And what's worse, I  _ liked  _ it..." Her words came out with more shock than contempt. Michael used to think she would make a pretty decent demon. He wasn't sure what to think about that anymore.

"... Because I'm angry at him, for leaving me. Which isn't even  _ remotely  _ fair, because he sacrificed himself for us, but I'm still angry he abandoned me..."

Maybe it wasn't  _ fair  _ , but it was not  _ wrong  _ , either. 

"... Which makes me guilty. Which makes me angry. Which makes me wanna talk to Chidi because he's the person I go to when I'm angry. So, it's a real fun cycle."

Michael could be there now. He would look after her, be by her side and help her in any way she needed. It wasn't that she couldn't do it alone, but she didn't deserve to. Maybe, just like she got him quicker than anyone else, he could understand these parts of her better than most people. Human emotions were complex, but anger, confusion and guilt were probably the first ones he was familiar with. 

"I still don't have a grip on the human emotional spectrum. You guys are often happy when you should be sad, and angry when you should be happy, and texting when you should be driving." He saw her frown. "Which is not an emotion, I know, but it's- it's insane. The point is, in this case, even if it’s not rational, you’re allowed to feel a little angry. Let yourself off the hook, process it, work your way through it, and then get your shirt together, because we got a lot of work to do.”

The little green spots around her told him she had enough hope to keep going just at the moment a knock on the door forced his eyes out of her smile.

* * *

The noises coming from Mindy's attic were enough to force the Squad out of the house for their weekly meeting. Constantly reminding themselves to keep their voices down and locking the door, they moved to Michael and Eleanor's office. 

Michael, leaning against the spiral staircase, spoke. "So, Jason, how was your first class with Chidi?"

"It was pretty cool, man. First, we talked about virtue ethnics, which ain't as racist as it sounds. But then he asked me if I knew how to read music, from back when I was a DJ in Jacksonville. I was like, homie,  _ no  _ . The cool thing about music is that you don't have to read." Jason dramatically pointed at his chest. "It gets into your soul on its own." 

He stuck a lollipop in his mouth. "I told him I could teach him all cool stuff about music, like sound mixing or dancing. He didn't say no, so I guess that's still on the table, but he just wanted to  _ read  _ it. I think Chidi really liked your present, Michael."

_ Oops.  _

Michael turned to avoid Eleanor's eyes. "That’s good. If we can get Chidi to step out of his comfort zone, then we might-"

"What present?" Her voice hid a claim, and he couldn't really blame her. Michael internally cursed. He meant to tell her, but he was expecting Chidi to-

"Michael gave Chidi this old notebook with writing and music you can't hear."

"You spoke with Chidi? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important. I just-"

"What did you talk about?"

_ You, mostly. _

"The morning after the luau, I passed by his apartment to check in on him. He was feeling better. That's it."

"But that was two days ago, Michael." She crossed her arms and faced him, a serious expression on her face.

"I know, I know. Please, Eleanor, keep your voice low. I didn't tell you because I was waiting-"

A knock on the office door made everyone suddenly quiet right before Chidi’s voice appeared. 

“Eleanor, are you in there?”

_ I was waiting for that  _ .

All five looked at each other in silence. 

_ You’re only five minutes too late, Chidi. _

_ Two days and five minutes late. _

Jason quickly hid the subject's whiteboard in Michael’s old wardrobe and Janet unlocked the door with a wave of her hand, before nodding to Eleanor.

“Yes, Chidi, come in.” 

Chidi opened the door and entered the office. One look at Tahani's face told Michael she was thinking the same thing he was: how strange, to be the six of them together again. 

Chidi pointed at the door. “Am I interrupting? I can come back later.”

Four voices answered in unison. “No!”

_ Great, guys. Make things weirder. _

Michael looked at Eleanor and saw the explosion of colors happening around her. Yellow, pink, red, orange, blue. A smudge of grey above her head but nothing compared to the rainbow forming around her frame, the honest smile on her face and that  _ oh, so familiar  _ glint on her eyes. The air smelled like a glass of wine in the middle of a lake, like opening new books and dancing in the rain.

_ Sorry for that, by the way  _ .

Michael felt himself sigh as he looked at her.

That’s it. 

That’s what he wanted to see. That’s how he wanted her to feel.

Maybe, in a couple of hours, Eleanor would yell at him for hiding his visit to Chidi. She could stop talking to him, even kick him out of his own office, and he would just take it. None of that mattered. Not anymore. 

Not when he could look at her like this. Happy. Finally  _ happy  _ .

“Can I help you, Chidi?” Only Michael would be able to hear the unperceivable trembling on her voice. That didn’t have a name, it was just  _ something  _ . Something good. Something nice.

“It seems like you’re busy…” Chidi looked around the office, the amount of people and the sudden silence clearly making him unsure. “I don’t mean to be a bother, I-”

Tahani glanced at Eleanor and intervened. “Oh, no, we were just about to take our leave. Right,  _ Jianyu _ ? Let’s go, darling.”

Jason offered a short bow of his head, which seemed more ridiculous when one considered every single being in the room knew of his true identity. As they both started to leave the office, Janet also binged herself out. 

“Are you sure, guys? I can come back at another time, or- or not. I could send a letter? It’s not an urgent matter. I really-”

“Chidi.” Eleanor’s voice stopped him from spiraling. “Don’t worry, we were wrapping things up here. What can I do for you?”

Michael turned to face Eleanor, partially hiding his expression from Chidi. His eyebrows raised a couple of times as he gave her a half-smile. “You know, if you don’t need me, I can go as well. I’ve been asked to check on the popcorn river. Apparently, some kernels are not popping.”

“You’re dismissed, Michael.”

He stifled a laugh and left, taking one last look at Eleanor’s glowing aura as he closed the door, leaving them alone.

* * *

He only saw her again at night time, a few hours later. Eleanor climbed the top steps of the spiral staircase, a dumb smile on her face, and still surrounded by an ocean of colors. He stood when he saw her, organized the large amount of papers on the table and walked towards the kitchen.

“So? How was it?”

“Fork, I missed him  _ so much  _ .” She leaned against one of the pillars and sighed. “We talked for  _ hours  _ . At first, he just wanted to ask if I was feeling better, after what happened the other night. And he told me he loved this neighborhood, that he was happy. But then, we just kept on talking. About everything. He asked me a bunch of questions, so I had to lie my ash off. We went for a walk… Bet Simone was probably wondering where he was.”

Michael took out a couple of plates and flute-shaped glasses out of a cabinet. “You don’t have to worry about Simone right now:”

“I missed that. I missed just hanging out with Chidi. I know I’m supposed to be the busy and powerful ‘Architect’, but still…”

“Careful. If you start fraternizing with your residents, you might end up turning the afterlife upside down for them.”

She started to walk towards the kitchen. “I think that seat is already taken.”

He snorted and shrugged. “It’s worth it. And, by the way, as a very wise friend once told me, sometimes it’s good to just ‘stop working’. On that note, I think I owed you something.” Michael revealed a bottle of champagne he was keeping under the counter. “No magic ants brought it, but I guess it will do. What do you think?”

“Uh, yes! I need a forking drink.”

He poured the beverage on the two glasses and handed one to her. “What food goes well with this?” 

“Seafood, obviously.”

“I don’t think you’re being objective.” He laughed, but he was already taking two meals out of the purple cabinet. As if he could dare to tell her no. Especially when she was smiling like that, leaning against the counter with her face resting on her hand. “Speaking of busy and powerful, Miss Architect: ‘You’re dismissed’? Really?”

“Too authoritative for you, bud?”

“Not at all,  _ boss  _ . I just think you’re adapting quite well to the position. Maybe too well.”

“Bet now you get the Sam the Eagle thing, amiright?”

“No. Of course I don’t. It’s a puppet. It has no essence, no real body. It doesn’t even have genitalia.”

She straightened and came to stand in front of him, her expression back to seriousness. “Hey, I don’t know why you didn’t tell me about going to see Chidi. But we’re a team, Michael.” She signaled back and forth to the both of them before poking his chest with her finger. “We do this together or we don’t do it at all. Got it?”

“Yeah. Sorry for that.”  _ It was worth it  _ . 

“Mkay. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

He grabbed his own glass, still untouched, and raised it. “But first, a toast.”

She raised hers as well. “To the most important person of this experiment.”

“To you?”

“I was gonna say Chidi, but I’ll take it.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “Even if it’s a bribe to get me to forgive you.”

Sometimes, Michael hoped he could forget it all. When the road got too hard or the memories of eons of torturing humans haunted him, he used to wish his mind could just turn blank. Start over and give the universe one less demon to concern about.

He never told anyone, not even Janet, but he found himself snapping his fingers a few times, alone in his office, in the middle of the night. He just wanted it to be over. 

It never worked. Not on him.

But now, he dared to think that maybe he wouldn’t want to remove a single thing out of his brain. Not really. Michael was who he was because of his friends. And because of  _ her  _ . And there was no way to erase all the bad things he did in his past if he didn’t erase that, too.

He tried to think about the way his existence would be like without them, and he found nothing. 

Maybe Eleanor was right, and Chidi did make a massive sacrifice.

“Okay, then. To Chidi, our professor.”

In more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *finally* done with exams, so I can get back to posting. Funny because I asked if you guys rathered shorter chapters posted more often and I did the opposite thing, but this was one was impossible to cut. It was a big block of Michael's thoughts that had a unity to it. So I just wrote like 500 words per day and, now that I’m free, it’s finally over.
> 
> Fun fact: Nietzsche was a musician, for real. I always found that interesting.


	6. Promises

It didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make _any_ sense.

But somehow, it made _enough_. Enough to start doubting the words that came out of his ―or _her_ ― mouth, to flinch at his touch and feel her heart break a little with all the excuses he gave her. Eleanor replayed in her mind each and every conversation she’d had with Michael for the past month. Images of the two of them laughing, having fun and working (along with a few of her crying) flooded her brain and clouded her eyes. They _lived_ together. _He_ made her move in with him. She tried to dismiss the chill that ran down her spine as a response to the cold breeze of the night and just kept walking, powered by the piled up stress climbing up her back.

There was too much at stake not to be worried. The very fate of humanity, for starters. Chidi’s well being, her friends’ future and her own.

The real Michael, if he wasn’t the one sitting on a couch at Mindy’s house right now. 

_That_ Michael was a whole other problem. 

Glenn’s words haunted her, making her wonder once again what kind of sick and tragic prank made her end up with the weight of the forking universe on her shoulders. This was too much. It was all too much. She used to be no one, she never cared about anyone but herself and now some cosmic shirt made her pay by having her guard the entire human race from literal demons. 

She stopped on her tracks.

_“This is a job for a human. One who’s tough, but also empathetic, and has a big heart. And a world-class bullshirt detector.”_

_“Eleanor, you’re the only one who can do this.”_

That happened after the Bad Place came to pick up that hot ash demon, right? Because that _had_ to be Michael. There was absolutely no way that was _Vicky_. He was just there, by her side, supporting her. As he had been for the past month. Yes. Everything was fine. That was Michael.

Or was he? And even if it was, was everything _fine_?

_“We know you wouldn’t lie to us or get all dark-side again.”_

She thought he was just being insecure after returning Tahani’s memories, but… what if it was something else?

_"Okay, fine. I lied."_

What else had he lied about? Even after all this time, and considering everything they'd been through together, Michael still could never be entirely honest with her. Eleanor couldn't help but wonder the possibility of more secrets being kept from them. 

Was he untrustworthy because he lied?

Or did he lie because he feared they didn't trust him?

Were those two even mutually exclusive?

Having her memories of an evil, past Michael only made things harder. She remembered the way his voice and his eyes started to change along with him. They softened, the same way his smile went from wicked to almost childish. It seemed to free him, in a way, becoming _good_ . It was hard for him, but she also watched him liberate himself from the burdens of his old job, quitting on a place right before realizing he had never even belonged there. But these past few weeks, Michael had started to change, _again_. Being constantly near him, Eleanor noticed but, until now, she denied it.

_Third eyes had to be real. Maybe she died before anyone could find hers. Too bad, because being the first person with a scientifically proven third eye would’ve probably made her rich. The thing was Eleanor Shellstrop always knew when she was being watched. And demons were not an exception to that._

_She briefly peeked over her file and caught Michael's eyes right before he looked away from her._

_“Everything okay, bud?”_

_“Yes. I just zoned out for a moment.” He smiled at her and went back to work. That feeling right under her ears, the one that warned her, never returned, so she believed him._

Was _Vicky_ watching her? Studying her? Was she the one who plotted to have her move into the office? 

No. No, the _being_ living with her was Michael. That was definitely Michael. Her reformed silver fox, her sweet human-objects-obsessed demon. Her best friend. He had been acting strange but he was probably just nervous about the experiment. Humans were not the only ones in danger, after all.

_Eleanor’s eyes opened and she gasped, sweaty and terrified. The room was still dark. Oh, okay, she was in a room. Her room. No flaming torches around her, no demon in sight. Well, there was_ one _demon downstairs, but he was not precisely torturing anyone._

_If anything, he was another victim inside of her nightmare._

_Eleanor sat up on her bed and took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes. Her friends were safe. No one was being dragged to the depths of the Bad Place. No one was being marbleized and swallowed by a tired Gen. No one was burning on the surface of any sun. And they were only three weeks into the experiment. They still had a whole year to change these dummies. Everything was fine._

_When she opened the door of her room and walked down a couple of steps, she saw him standing in front of the couch, as he looked at her. A reading light was on and an open book discarded on top of the coffee table._

_“Are you okay? That... didn’t sound good. It didn’t seem appropriate to go in, but you always wash your face after having a nightmare, so I figured you would come down. Do you need something?”_

_She smiled, glad to see him safe and sound. “I’m fine. Thanks, Michael.”_

_After leaving the bathroom, the fresh water on her face relaxing her and bringing her back to reality, she settled on the couch next to him. “Wanna watch something? I don’t feel like going back to sleep.”_

_“Sure. Any ideas?” His eyes were narrowed, peppered with concern under the lights._

_“Something dumb and ridiculously happy. Even better if it’s trashy.” She needed to get her mind off of the screams of her friends, and nothing like a mediocre flick could do that._

_“Anything on the Netflix catalog that’s under two hours long, then? I’ll go get the popcorn shrimp. You pick something.” He stood and squeezed her shoulder before walking to the kitchen. Eleanor watched him go and hoped with every fiber of her being that they won. She didn’t know where she would be if it weren’t for him. Well, she knew. In the Bad Place, being tortured. Along with every soul that had come to existence in the past 500 years or so._

_Even if the new humans sucked, Michael didn’t deserve to be punished for doing the right thing. When he sat back down on the couch, Eleanor rested her head on his shoulder and sighed._

_“Promise me you’ll never get retired, buddy.” She knew it was a stupid request and that he had no way to ensure her that. But hearing the words would probably give her a sense of safety, something to latch onto._

_“Oh. Is that what you were dreaming?”_

_She nodded. “Among other things. We lost.”_

_His hand moved around her shoulders and came to rest on her forearm. “We are not going to lose. And I won’t get retired. I got a good feeling about this whole thing, you know? We’ll work it out, Eleanor. We’ll try our best. That much I can promise you.”_

What if there were two Michaels? The nice one and the demon-spanx liar? Maybe Vicky showed up whenever Michael was distracted, or-

No, that didn't make any sense. Now she was just losing her mind.

If there weren't two Michaels, then she was certain that there were at least two Eleanors. That was the only way she had to put some order into the forking mess her brain was becoming. One thought after another and a rainstorm of memories on her head. Just too many responsibilities on one girl's back. A part of her calmed with each good memory she recalled, cringing at the possibility of Vicky touching her, talking to her and pretending to be him, but sure that Michael would never betray them. Her other part…

Her other part sucked.

_I told you so._

_I told you not to get close. They all turn on you in the end. They all let you down. No one is worth the trouble._

_Chidi left the team. Why wouldn't Michael?_

No. _No_ . Chidi erased his memories ―and he was there, he didn't _leave_ anywhere― because there was no other option.

And Michael had changed, she knew that for a fact.

She also knew Michael lied.

Fork. Was she even the right person to make this call?

_Eleanor refilled her glass. The best part about brunch were certainly the mimosas. Even though it was just the two of them, she kept her voice down, unsure of the words she felt needed to be said out loud. "Did you tell Michael the truth, when you told him why you stormed off that day?"_

_“Yes, of course I did! But not all of it. I must admit I still feel a bit hurt. I know Michael has changed, and I am certain that he would never hurt us, but… perhaps I rather live without the memories of the ways he used to behave. I wish I had your strength, darling, to deal with this matter properly.”_

_“Oh, c’mon, babe! You can totally hack this. A few pranks, some mean comments. Nothing the best version of Tahani Al-Jamil can’t handle. One time, you literally kicked Michael’s shin. The guy feels like shirt, he’ll probably just ask you to do that again.”_

_“Eleanor, this is not about a few mean comments. I watched him press all my weak spots, comparing me to everyone else, shutting me down. He was copying my parent’s attitude. And, let me tell you, it was uncanny. I felt as if I were attending the worst therapy session in the universe. And this is coming from someone who offered to work with Natalie Portman right after she graduated.”_

_“You’re right, you’re right. But this is Michael we’re talking about. Now he’s like the sweetest dude in the world. The guy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”_

_“I_ know _that, Eleanor. This is not about that. But remembering proved to be harder than I thought.” Tahani lowered her voice and spoke into the rim of her own glass. "Maybe you just never lived it in quite the same way I did."_

_"What did you say?"_

_"Forgive me, Eleanor, but you must admit Michael has always had some sort of special kinship with you. Even at his worst moments, he at least respected you."_

_She snorted. "That- that's not true. He was the same, with all of us." He wasn't. At least, not since the first time she figured things out. It became a chase-off after that, a power play between the two. Always an extra Architect eye on the Arizona dirtbag. No one knew what she could do next._

_Tahani raised an eyebrow and Eleanor rolled her eyes. Fine. There was no use in hiding it._

_"Have you told Michael anything about this? I really don't think handling it the British-posh way and bottling it all up is your best move here."_

_Tahani gave her an apologetic glance. "He must suspect. He told me to go back whenever I was ready and I haven't. Not yet."_

_Eighteen days had passed since then. Eleanor rubbed her eyes. "You're both so forking stubborn. It's infuriating.” If at least one of them were a little more hot-blooded. ”Then let_ me _talk to him. Just- stop being so weird around each other."_

_"Please, don't. I will figure something out. But do not mention this to him. The last thing I wish is to hurt him."_

Was Eleanor really being too accepting of him? Did he not _deserve_ her full trust? Or had Michael always been different to her?

She was not traumatized by the memories, but the guy never really _scared_ her at all. She had met some really mean people in her life and he was… similar to that. She also understood how survival instincts worked: if they wanted to live, they needed jobs, responsibilities. They both did shirty things but, most importantly, they changed. 

If he was capable of giving her the benefit of the doubt, he deserved the same from her. 

If that was really Michael.

_God, not that question again. Stupid brain._

Could any other demon bring memories back? Maybe all the things he ―or she― told her about that were false. Maybe he never came up with that, maybe it was an old Bad Place move. 

Oh, _God_. What if those weren’t her memories at all?

No. That was just too ridiculous.

_"They're desperate. They know they're gonna lose."_

The usual Michael knew that Eleanor's instincts were to be trusted. She had a whole life around her fair share of shady people. Why was he so dismissive? Was it about the suit?

Why even lie about that at all?

Why lie to _her_ at all?

_"Michael! Michael, are you down here?" Eleanor walked down the steps of the spiral staircase. It was way too early. Did he really leave without her? She opened the door of the office, looking into the waiting room, and called him again. Nothing._

_That was weird._

_"Hey, Janet?"_

_"Hi, there!"_

_Poor Janet. She kept saying she was fine, but Eleanor knew she had been different since things got tough with Jason. The pressure of the experiment was surely weighing on her. The glint in her eyes was gone and her bubbly, cheerful voice had a strange note to it._

_"Do you know where Michael is? He wasn't here when I got up."_

_"He didn't tell you where he was going?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't have access to the whereabouts of Architects. Only humans. I guess he'll tell you when he gets back. He_ did _ask me for something last night, and it seemed important."_

_"What?"_

_"Sorry, again, but it concerns a resident so I'm not allowed to share it. It's confidential information."_

_Eleanor laughed. "C'mon, Janet, what the fork? It's me, I'm in charge of the subjects. Can you at least tell me which resident it is?" Was it Brent, maybe? John or Simone?_

_Who was she joking? She wanted to know if Chidi was alright._

_Her friend shrugged. Stupid protocols. "Ask Michael when he gets back. He can tell you everything."_

_She started walking towards the desk and sat on their chair. “Fine. I just hope it wasn’t something urgent. He didn’t even wait for me.”_

_Janet slowly sat in front of her, a frown on her face. “Maybe he just thought you deserved a break. I know I’m not allowed to disclose classified information about anyone in the neighborhood, but Michael has been asking me about you.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“He usually wants to know if you’re alright, that’s all. Maybe he’s just concerned about you, considering all the weight that’s on your back right now. He might be worried after putting that much responsibility on a single human.”_

_“You really think that?” He told her he trusted her. Michael told her she was the only one who could do this. Was he seriously regretting that now? When they were only a couple of weeks in? Why put her through this trouble at all, then?_

_“Why don’t you ask him?” Eleanor nodded. “I should go. Tahani asked me to help her organize the picnic for this afternoon. Do you need something else?”_

_She thought for a second, drumming her fingers on the wood. “Yes. What’s the name of those cloth thingies people put on the pockets of their suits? Hand- something?”_

_“A handkerchief.”_

_“Yes! Can you give me one that matches my sweater?”_

_Janet manifested a blue piece of silk before binging out of the room. “There you go.”_

_“Thanks, babe.”_

_She placed the hand- (damn it, why was that name so hard to remember?) the thing on top of the desk. They were in on this together. He put her in charge. If she trusted him to handle this, then he had to trust her as well. Two phony Architects against literal Hell._

_She could do this._

_Her fingers felt the folds of the silk. They were a team. She wouldn’t let him forget that._

Eleanor almost crashed into a pole, walking without looking where she was going. She took a deep breath, hands rubbing her temples. She was lost. 

An honest smile.

An awkward grimace.

Free days in the arcade.

A change in the subject.

Dishes cleaned with a snap of his fingers.

A cut-off confession.

A stare a little too long. 

A cup of antimatter fresh out of the purple cabinet.

What if _they_ were letting her get close to someone only to have them let her down again? Was there a worse kind of torture than that?

And have that someone be a forking demon, so she can feel extra stupid for trusting him.

 _No_. She was doing what they wanted.

_“What’s the Bad Place’s plan?”_

_“To sow chaos, to turn you guys against each other.”_

She wouldn’t let them jeopardize her trust in Michael.

Unless… 

Oh, shirt. Please, no. 

_“I don’t know if I believe that is something worthy of admiration.”_

Unless Michael was the one trying to turn her against Chidi.

Was he trying to make her mad at him? It wasn’t even Eleanor’s idea to torture him. She tried to remember the thought process that got her to take it too far. Had _he_ made her do that, somehow?

No wonder he kept his visit as a secret from her. What did Michael tell him that day? What did he need to hide? Did he keep torturing him behind her back, pushing him to the edge so he could ‘help people’? Or was it to make him feel bad about abandoning her?

_What the fork, Michael?_

As if conjured by her brain, in desperate need of a lifeline, she recognized a distant figure sitting on the couch, under the moonlight. 

“Chidi?” 

He looked up from his notebook at her, an anxious expression on his face. Ripped and crumpled sheets of paper were sprawled around him. “Hey!”

“Hey. I didn’t think anybody would still be up.” Eleanor looked around her, checking that no other residents were in the area. She hoped the mess happening in Mindy’s house hadn’t caught anyone’s attention and, mostly, that no one had seen the hooded figure being dragged through the neighborhood a while ago. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m just practicing drawing viable horses, ones that aren’t crimes ―you know― against nature.”

She smiled at him. That was her man. Kind, thoughtful, caring. Worried sick about doing something for someone else that wasn’t entirely perfect. She wanted so badly to get closer to him, to sit beside him and kiss him. Chidi would know what to do now. He would stretch out his hand and call on a book that had the right answer. But what could she do in this situation? 

_Hey, man. Got a reading list on trusting immortal beings? I’m just curious about the subject, for no particular reason._

Eleanor started to wonder how she could’ve gone a full month running this place without him by her side. It scared her knowing she still had eleven more that way.

She gazed at him, feeling a lump building on her throat because of how much she missed him. That was at least one of the reasons for it. She hated seeing him this stressed out. Maybe Chidi couldn’t help her tonight, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to make _him_ feel better.

“Okay. I know this mood of yours.” _Wait, that sounded shady_. “From reading your file and what not. Why don’t we take a break and we’ll get some food in you?”

He never ate when he got anxious. Hours passed as he scrutinized every book on the concerning subject, or while he replayed, over and over, an awkward conversation in his head. The hunger only worsened his stomach aches, which made him _even_ more anxious, and made him feel light-headed, which made it harder for him to think, which made harder finding an answer, which wrecked his nerves even more.

So, not a pretty cycle to witness.

Nachos reminded her of Attempt #402, the one where he made the first move. Cool, _suave_ Chidi, she never saw it coming. She shook her head before she got too distracted by the thought of the back of her shirt being suddenly spotted with chalk, erasing the name ‘Dancy’ off of the blackboard.

She didn’t want to know how much time she spent sitting there with him, pretending to know nothing about human existence. She shouldn’t have done that. She stayed for too long, even with everything happening at Mindy’s. Maybe she was afraid of finally confronting what was going on. 

_Making yourself miserable to ease the suffering of others. ‘Bout the most Chidi thing you can do._

Michael didn’t understand. He wasn’t human. He would _never_ understand. If he was trying to make her angry at Chidi, he failed. Even more, his shot backfired. 

He had always had some sort of _issue_ with Chidi. She realized that during the whole Trolley Problem situation, and now she started thinking maybe that never died out. He just didn’t get it. And he didn’t get _him_.

For the past month, she had cried on Michael’s shoulders probably more times than in her entire life. She had stepped up after him, taken on the big chair with him. They were supposed to be a team. He had promised they would do this together, or not do it at all.

 _Not at all it is, then_.

There was no logical way the demon inside the house was Vicky. But knowing that just made things worse. So she preferred thinking that was still a possibility.

She swallowed hard and opened the door, sucking the last remains of cheese off of her fingers before looking at Michael.

“Okay. Here’s where I’m at. I just don’t know if I can ever trust you.”

* * *

Luckily, they started spotting a few distant houses just as the sun started to set. This way, they would have no need to wait on the side of the tracks until night time, avoiding the danger of any subjects potentially witnessing a supposed Buddhist monk, an immortal being and a Janet getting into the neighborhood by handcar. 

They had already alerted Eleanor and Tahani, via walkie-talkie mode, that they had safely left the Bad Place, leaving the container full of Glenn's essence hidden under a table in the Recycling Department. No one would find him there.

Bad for the universe, good for the demon.

Michael thought it might be a good idea to call on them again, to let them know they were nearing the neighborhood, to be ready in case of any unexpected event.

He positioned himself next to Janet and asked her to engage in communication with Bad Janet.

"Hey, guys. Are you over there?" He paused and giggled. "This is like leaving a voicemail, so fun!"

"Yes, yes! Are you okay? What happened?!" Eleanor's voice was rushed and had a scared note to it, so Michael hurried to answer.

"Don't worry, we're fine. We were just calling to tell you that we'll be there soon. Between-"

"I'm coming!" 

"But we still have a while here!" _Between an hour and… six?_

He should really stop giving estimates to humans.

The sound of a door shutting close told him she did not wait, and was most certainly on her way to the train station at that moment. She was surely worried about Janet. About Jason, too, most likely. Michael thanked the artificial skies that they managed to escape unharmed. A part of him thought it to be too easy, but maybe he had become paranoid by now. 

The important part was that they were all together and safe.

He would deal with the rest later. Eleanor was first on that list.

_Stupid Mikey, will you ever learn?_

_You don't lie to a woman that seems to see the world in more dimensions than is humanly possible. You don't lie to your friends. You don't lie to her._

_And hiding things_ is _lying, you_ dingus _._

He wondered if she would either quit as Architect, faking a promotion for her 'Assistant', or kick his butt out of the office and handle things herself. She would do an excellent job, for sure, but he would miss being by her side.

Maybe it was for the best, though. If they couldn't trust each other, perhaps it was better not to get close at all. That way, at least they saved themselves from that sour feeling dripping down his throat since yesterday. But he would certainly miss this. The past month living with Eleanor had been one of the most special moments of his existence. He'd had so much fun with her. Yes, they were working most of the time, but it was an important task. The most important one he ever embarked on. And they also had their movie nights and off days at the arcade, along with the occasional argument about the mess she left around, and how mad she got after he snapped it all clean because 'he had messed up her mess'.

He let out a sad smile. _Damn it. Way to fork things up._

A couple of hours passed until he was able to make out the train station, distinguishing two figures standing under the lights. He sped up their pace, suddenly realizing how much he needed to plant his soles in the neighborhood, the place that was ―at least for now― their _home_.

They didn't have time to even step out of the handcar. Eleanor climbed it and clung herself to Janet and Jason while Michael held Tahani's hand to help her up, right before the British woman crushed him with a hug. He looked past her shoulder and caught Eleanor staring at him.

Regret.

Her throat was filled with it, too. 

If she regretted moving in, he would design her a new house. If the problem was working together, he would let her choose who should remain in charge. He would treasure the past few weeks in his memory and move on. And maybe, just maybe, learn something along the way. He wouldn’t lie again, for sure, but he would also be more careful before letting himself loose around someone else. 

What was he expecting? That the very same people he literally tortured would just trust him, without any question, reserve or doubt?

Well, she _did_. Once, a while ago. A few clues were enough to hold them in the neighborhood, even though he was roasting the There out of them, playing the horned little devil he was always supposed to be. They had run out of leaps, apparently. What had changed since then? Was it having her memories back? Centuries of his hateful past compared to only a couple of years of his new self were probably able to tip the scales against him. 

Was he still… _bad_ for lying? Was he incapable of real, actual change? The thought scared him more than anything else in the universe. The last thing he wanted was to hurt another being ever again.

He stared back at Eleanor until she smiled, a slow and small apologetic smile that puzzled him. What she glad to see him? Why?

They had arranged a meeting for the moment they got back, to decide what to do with Bad Janet and what their next move should be when it came to dealing with the Bad Place. But Eleanor, still staring, proposed to have it moved until the next morning, when they were well-rested and Jason and Janet had made up for some of their lost time together.

She surely knew how they felt at that moment.

After dropping the two lovebirds (not birds, thank you very much, Janet) and Tahani at their respective homes, Michael and Eleanor kept walking side by side, in complete silence. A space filled with tension was pulling them apart, as if they were identical polars of two different magnets. An uncomfortable vibration nagged him around his arm, her very presence reminding him of his mistakes. He braced himself for the argument surely building and boiling inside her. 

He wouldn’t look at her, no, wouldn’t dare to catch a glimpse of her aura. He thought he should perhaps say something, but no thoughts had shape in his mind. He also considered it best to wait for her to speak. She was the Leader after all, and whatever happened next was her call to make.

By the time they reached the office, she stopped in front of the spiral staircase and turned around, facing him. Red little spots were bubbling out of her as she scratched her skin. Nervous? Why? Her finger pointed to the roof. 

_Oh, she’s going to kick me out, isn’t she? Tell me she’s going up and I should sit on the desk all night long. Could be worse. I did that my entire existence. I can get used to it again. I can try to like it the way I used to before I knew how fun the alternative was. No problem._

"I got a little surprise for you upstairs."

 _What?_ Michael frowned, but his curiosity had peaked so he started climbing up, with her following closely behind. When he reached the top steps, he saw it.

The living room was gone, in a way. More like scattered in a completely different form. Cushions were placed against the wall on top of Eleanor's mattress, along with a couple of blankets. She had also moved the purple cabinet out of the kitchen, placing it on the floor next to what was left of the couch. The reading lights, dimmed by a large sheet covering the entire space, left the house dark as they lightened the cozy little spot she had prepared.

His voice barely came out. "You built me a fort?"

He turned to look at her and found her smiling. "Still up for that slumber party?" 

"Oh, Eleanor!" Michael laughed as he duck down and threw himself onto one side of the mattress. “Oh, this must be so fun. I’ve never been inside one of these things.”

She poked her head inside. “Mind if I hop in?”

“What kind of party would it be if you didn’t?”

Eleanor lied on her side next to him, propped up on one of her elbows, with her head resting on one hand.

Michael stretched out an arm to feel the sheet that worked as a ‘roof’. “This is so interesting! It’s like a small house within a larger house. Except the architectural structure wouldn’t protect its residents from any external sources of danger, of course. If rain were to fall down on us and we were outdoors with this as our shelter, we would probably end up drenched.”

She sounded almost offended. “Hey! I know it’s a little... _plain_ but there’s no way I was bringing Bad Janet back to this place, ever.”

He shook his head. “No, no. That’s what makes it special. It’s entirely human.” He turned his head to the left, meeting her eyes. He had expected her to be angry, but she only looked sad. “What’s wrong?”

Eleanor sighed. “Nothing. It’s just- You’re looking really _you_ now. Got a very Michael-y vibe going on, talking about humans and all. With everything that’s happened, I feel like shirt right now.”

Oh, so they _were_ going to talk about this.

“I have to admit I was behaving a little strangely. You had your reasons to doubt me.”

She dropped her back on the mattress. “Can’t say I made a very strong case. I’m an ashole. I could’ve just asked you if something was wrong. Look, you _were_ different, yeah. There’s something in your eyes, something I can’t explain. I don’t see all the things you do, but I _do_ know you. And I could tell you were hiding something, because you had that same guilty face my cousin had when she crashed the car I rented. But instead of acting like a normal person and being straight with you, I just- I just assumed the worst. So I’m asking you now: are you okay?”

“Yeah. It was a tough month, but I’m glad this suit thing is over.”

“You should’ve told us, you know? We could’ve figured something out.”

“I know. I’m deeply sorry, Eleanor.”

“I’m sorry, too, bud.”

They were less than a feet apart, but the magnetic wall between them never fell. The silence became heavy. There was too much to say: a fair share of owed apologies, accumulated frustrations and hidden pains. 

“I broke my promise.” She pronounced, in a low voice, the same words he was thinking. “Can you pass me that book? You kinda took my side of the bed.”

Michael chuckled. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry for that. I don’t get the appeal of having a ‘side’. It only creates a person-shaped well in the mattress.” He looked around him and found a copy of _What We Owe to Each Other_ at his feet. “You read Scanlon’s book?”

“Not all of it. Just the section on promises.”

He flipped through the pages with folded corners. “You know marking a book with highlighter costs you 0.5 points per page?”

He snatched the book out of his hands. “Give me that. Joke’s on you. I never did this on Earth.”

“Yeah, because you never read. That didn’t particularly _gain_ you points either.”

“Well, I needed a little bit of guidance. And _this_ is the book Chidi gave me when I promised to help you on the first round. Seemed like the right book to go back to.” 

“Find anything?” _I could use some guidance as well._

“It was around here, somewhere… Here it is! ‘The wrong of breaking a promise and the wrong of making a lying promise are instances of a more general family of moral wrongs which are concerned not with social practices but rather with _what we owe to other people_ when we have led them to form expectations about our future conduct...’ It’s not _illegal_ to break a promise. But I _owed_ it to you to trust you. Because you _expected_ me to trust you. Because I _told you_ I would trust you. And I failed you. You of all people.”

“I’m not people…” She glared at him. _How come no one got mad when Janet did it?_

“One of the first things I did when I met you was keeping a promise. And I didn’t even know the real you back then. And now, that you’re my- that you’re _our_ Michael, I didn’t even do that. I didn’t trust you when you’re the one who’s been there for me more than anyone. So… If nachos start falling from the sky tomorrow, we know whose fault it is.”

“Eleanor, it’s okay. I-”

“No, it’s not. Don’t you dare say it’s okay. Because my reasons for not trusting you were lame. And I can’t stop thinking about you blowing up and Janet still in the Bad Place. And how insane it would be to try running this thing without you. And what this place would look like without you in it... Just a blue pool of Michael goo on the couch.”

Her voice broke, and he dared to travel, quickly, through the thick space between them to hold her hand. Her fingers slid between his, tickling the thin skin on their sides. They both took a deep breath. _That’s better_.

“You know I would totally make a language to talk to your bubbles, right? Some kind of weird, celestial morse code.”

Michael wanted to laugh but his eyes closed, instead, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions coming out of both. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. She had never been this open with him before. It was all too much, a complex mixture of feelings he should never even experience. He was a demon, damn it. He shouldn’t _feel_ at all. _Just breathe and listen, Mikey._

“Last night, I ran into Chidi. I saw him and I asked myself how the fork was I doing this without him, running this neighborhood without his ethical mumble jumble on my ears. I felt lost, and I thought it was because he wasn’t guiding me.” She paused. “But I hadn’t felt that lost in weeks. And today, at the train station, I realized that the reason I was feeling that way was because _you_ weren’t there. Because I shut you out, when you’re the one who’s been there for me this past month. Fork it, this whole afterlife. You’re the only reason I haven’t gone crazy, Michael. I _can’t_ do this without you.”

“That’s not true. You can.”

“I can’t.”

“You _can_. You don’t need me. You never did. And maybe you would be better off without me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I lie, I don’t understand ethics the way you do, I do things even though I know they are wrong. I’ll always be a demon. Doesn’t matter how much time I can spend pretending I’m not.”

“I do bad things, too, bud. This is all about improving, remember? We all bring out the best in each other. So we gotta stick together.” She glanced at him before staring at the distance. “You know, sometimes I feel like we’re the ones being tested.”

“That would explain a lot.”

She sat, crossed leg, on the mattress, and looked directly at him. “Hear me. Tonight, we make two promises. Or renew them, I don’t know. First, we trust each other. Always. No matter what. And secondly, no more lies. You gotta be honest with me, even if you think I’m gonna be mad or whatever. Because, no matter what you say, I’ll trust you. Got it?”

“Okay. Seems fair.” Michael thought for a moment about the strange amount of feelings gathered in his chest. Should he tell her? He didn’t want to make her upset, but she _asked_ him to be honest. And he wasn’t sure keeping things bottled was the best plan. “Can I be very honest with you for a moment?”

“You kidding, man? I literally just made you promise that.”

 _This is not the same._ It wasn’t about hiding something or telling a lie. It was about confessing an uncomfortable truth, one she didn’t really _need_ to know. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize he needed to say it.

He stared at his feet. He wouldn’t be able to say it otherwise.

“It hurt me.” He swallowed, hard. He tried to keep his tone calm and collected. He wasn’t angry, and he didn’t want Eleanor to think that he was. “It hurt me that you didn’t trust me. I’m still struggling with human emotions, which is not always fun, but I can say it really sucked.” Mostly because she _wanted_ him away. Locked in Janet’s void or- or the alternative… “What do you think would’ve happened if you had known about the suit all along? Can you honestly say you would’ve trusted me?” 

He turned when a sniff drew his attention. Tears were running down her face as her other hand joined the ones already clasped on her legs. “Oh, Eleanor, don’t cry. I had a lot of time to think things through today. I get how you were thinking. I told you, I know you had your reasons. I also know you must feel hurt, too. And, again, I apologize for that.”

She bit her lip. “Forking shirt, Michael. I feel like I’ll never be able to make this up to you.” 

“There’s nothing to make up for. We’ll just keep our promises from now on. I trust you, too, you know that?”

She untangled one of her hands to dry her tears, but his free one got there first, shedding the wetness of her cheeks with a rub of his thumb.

"I don't know why I'm crying so much lately. I hate it. I hate crying, it's wet and stupid."

"It's not stupid. I think it's a consequence of having meaningful bonds. We're both still getting used to that." He realized his fingers were still stroking her face and dropped them. Sometimes he struggled with boundaries, as well, especially when it came to Eleanor. He didn't understand the thin and flimsy lines of proper behavior, but she never seemed bothered by it. And climbing up the magnetic wall appeared to have turned its effects around. "Do you want something to eat?"

She smiled at him. "Sure. I picked last time, it's your turn. I'll put on some pyjamas, okay?"

She stood and went upstairs, leaving pins and needles all over Michael's hand. He felt the sudden need to change as well, the events of the day weighing in on him. He stepped out of the fort and kicked off his shoes.

"Eleanor? Do you mind if I use your shower?" 

He heard her voice through the walls of her room. "Mmm, no? It's your bathroom, too. You're the weirdo who doesn't use it."

"I don't _need_ it." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Not usually, at least."

"Just don't do anything weird because there's no way I'm calling Janet tonight. If you break the house, it's on you."

"I _know_ how humans shower, Eleanor." _I think._

She opened the door and came down, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Everything okay? Can I ask what gave you this idea?" She stood in front of him, concern painted around her aura.

"It's dumb. It's just- after being _there_ , I feel… contaminated. Which is physically impossible for this skin suit, by the way. But it's hard to explain."

"No. Makes sense." She cocked her head. "Bet it was awful going back. Wanna talk about it?"

"No. Thank you, but I really don't. I'm just glad I left." One day at the Bad Place had been more than enough. He didn't need or want to relive it, but only to take it off of his skin.

* * *

Eleanor fell asleep a few hours later, after making him swear he wouldn't find any demon guns and have her wake up to a blue, blown up Michael.

Showering was nice. Quite fun when he thought about artificial rain that started falling down at his will. And he felt better, _cleaner_ , in a way.

He didn't want to risk waking her with the sound of the TV so he had picked up Scanlon's book and started reading it. That man was definitely on the way to the Bad Place for using equations to explain moral philosophy. That was like eating Hawaiian pizza out of an oyster.

A slap on his face startled him right at the moment Eleanor's snores stopped.

_What the fork?_

A hand landed, probing, on his cheek, then his chest and then his glasses. He turned to his left and found her still fast asleep on her back, stretching out her arm towards him.

"I did _not_ blow up. I'm fine."

He barely whispered but Eleanor must have heard him because she shushed him and made a sound. He was getting back to reading when another hand came back to his chest and, this time, stayed there. She turned on her side and snuggled right next to him.

_Oh._

Her knees pushed against his thigh.

 _Oh, no_.

What was the protocol for this? What should he do?

She was surely confused... "I'm not-" _I'm not Chidi._

She shushed him louder than before.

Michael stilled. Should he get up? Push her away? 

Her snoring came back.

 _Oh. Okay_.

Maybe he should just let her rest. She'd had a very rough day. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for Eleanor to think he was angry at her. He brought a hand to her hair, softly combing through it, but she sighed, so he put it back behind his head, holding it up as he went back to his book.

Boundaries. Always testing the thin lines that defined friendship.

But was it this hard to know what to do with the rest of his friends? What was different about her? Was it the house? Was it _this_ , this night, having her lying down next to him?

Maybe this was that thing she called a 'best friend'.

Huh. He liked it.

* * *

He thought the book would become easier after the sun rose. But the lack of light did not turn out to be the problem. And he once swore Chidi was the biggest buzzkill he ever met.

_“Moral relativism denies that there is a single set of ultimate substantive moral standards by which all actions are to be judged, but it nonetheless presupposes a single normative perspective, from which-”_

Her voice interrupted him. “No wonder you’re so warm. You’re pure fire, bud.”

He couldn't help but laugh. “Good morning, Eleanor.”

“Hi.” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, not moving the one still resting on his chest. “You know I don’t care about that, right? None of us do. Well, Jason’s mind blew. But you’ll always be our Michael, fire squid or not. And our honorary human. You shower and all, now.”

That was easier to say when a human hadn't set eyes on his true form. Eleanor sure wouldn't be snuggling one of his burning tentacles.

_Why hadn't she moved?_

"Michael, I'm serious. Don't go getting all paranoid on us, okay?"

He grimaced. "Sure."

She sighed and turned to lay on her back, probably figuring out it wouldn’t be that easy to convince him, before crawling out of the fort and locking herself in the bathroom.

_“...from which judgments can be made about which principles (including moral principles) people in various situations-”_

“Did you sleep at all last night?” She emerged, toothbrush still in her mouth.

“Of course not. I’m physically incapable of sleeping. Our bodies were built to work, not to rest. And even if I could sleep, your snoring is terribly loud. I _tried_ to read this book, but someone keeps distracting me.”

“Yeah, I know I look hot in the mornings.”

“That’s not-” She smirked at him after drying her face. _Oh, she was teasing him._

“ _Reading_. I told you I didn’t want a study group this time around.” Eleanor fell back on the mattress, propping herself up on her elbows.

“You’re the one who brought a book to a party.”

“Well, I guess this takes the prize as the saddest slumber party of the universe. Two dirtbags just moping around and reading.”

“Then we’ll have to repeat this. Without, you know, all the sad parts.”

She grinned for a second before her aura turned gray. _Stupid Michael, don’t make her cry_. But she just squeezed his arm, staring at him. And he just stared back, smiling. He wasn’t mad. Not anymore, at least.

“I’m really sorry, Michael.”

He placed his other hand on top of hers, as her thumb drew circles on his shirt. “Stop that. It’s fine, Eleanor. Truly.”

“Okay.” She paused. “C’mon, we got a meeting to get to. I’ll go shower. And then you’ll help me take all this shirt back up. I didn’t really think about that part when I kicked the mattress down the stairs.”

She laughed. That was much better.

Michael wondered if the fluttering his chest made at the sound was also owed to having a best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't give an honest review of Scanlon's book because I only read the section on promises, but who uses equations to explain philosophy?


	7. Hot and Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is specially dedicated to Katoska and Serena_Rose, two beautiful people who helped me out of a gigantic block. More info at the end notes.

Michael’s voice resonated against the recorder. “Okay. This is Attempt number 6 of our new project. Considering the events of the past week, and mostly the moment when Tahani tried to fence me with a broomstick, we’ve decided to ban from her mansion any potentially harming objects until we’ve figured out the way to ensure the memories recovered don’t overlap with current experiences.”

_Through the reflection of Mindy’s mirror, as he adjusted his fedora, he spotted Tahani leaning against the doorway._

_“Michael. We need to talk.” Her voice had a determination quite uncommon for her, which made Michael worry even more._

_He still felt quite uncomfortable with the way the night had unfolded, and perhaps even too tired to deal with more accusations from his friends, so he just sighed, without turning around, bracing himself for the next hit. At least the woman behind him, unlike Eleanor, dared to meet his eyes._

_“What happened tonight is unacceptable.” He cringed. “Which is why I need my memories. I will go back to your office as soon as you get back from the Bad Place.”_

“Wait, Michael, you need to tell the full story. Hello! It is I, Tahani. See-”

“Tahani, I’m the only one who listens to these recordings. You don’t need to introduce yourself.”

“After our fifth attempt, it took some time for me to recognize that we had even left the Bad Place at all. And having found myself alone, with Michael, in the same house as then, I reacted in a somewhat... _impulsive_ manner.” Her voice lowered to an amused mutter. “And, once again, I apologize for that, Michael.”

_He was surprised, to say the least. They had never spoken about that subject again. “Oh. You want us to keep bringing back your memories?”_

_She nodded. “Yes. I apologize for reacting so poorly, but what happened tonight is proof that we need to trust each other. And that we must truly know one another, because we don’t know what the Bad Place will do next in their intent to tear us apart.”_

_He faced her. “Oh, Tahani, I am the one who should apologize to you. Endlessly. I should have been more supportive of you. And more honest. About everything. After what I did to you, guys…”_

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine, Tahani. Consider it a hit to my past self. And Janet healed the bruising in a second, so there’s nothing to concern about. After letting a dog rip apart your portrait of all the residents of the neighborhood in Attempt #97, I deserve nothing less. And I must say, it was an incredibly beautiful work of art, so its loss was regretful.”

“Well, now I know most of the people there were actually demons, so not quite regretful. But I would be very glad to paint a new picture of our lovely little gang for you, Michael, once we are all reunited.”

“And I would love to have that. You are a truly talented artist.” She smiled at him.

_“I must admit that remembering proved to be harder than I thought it would be. But I know, and tonight more than ever, that you would never harm us. It’s just-”_

_“The things I did hurt you. I know that. But you don’t have to do this alone, Tahani. I will be there, by your side, helping you as you remember. You know, I’ve come to realize that we are quite similar in some ways, you and I. We are both, if you allow me, a bit driven by other people’s approval. But you are such a_ wonderful _person. Truly. You are kind, generous, gifted and empathetic. And you deserve to be happy.” When Tahani’s eyes became glassy, he reached out a hand to graze her forearm. “I want you to find whatever it is that will lead you towards that path. It’s not about your parents, your sister or your friends. It’s about you. I found my purpose. If you want, I can help you as you find yours.”_

_She nodded and closed the gap between them to hug him. “Thank you, Michael.” He hugged her back and took a deep breath, only now realizing his need for some comfort. “Please take care of yourself down there.” _

_“No, Tahani. Thank_ you _. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I trust you two will do a fantastic job handling things here.”_

“But it’s time to get back to work! In this opportunity, Tahani will drink a beverage made of stardust mixed in with a single drop of antimatter to work as a stimulant for her brain. I will then monitor her progress during the week to ensure no delayed consequences.”

“Yes. After what happened in Attempt number 3, that is perhaps for the best.”

“Okay! Let’s do this!” He turned off the recorder and looked attentively at Tahani. “Are you ready?”

“Most certainly! But Michael, how much longer do you think we’ll have until we get this right? I cannot understand how Jason had no problem to recall his entire collection of memories and, two months later, we still haven’t managed to do this successfully.”

He began to prepare a drink on Tahani’s kitchen counter. “Well, as I once mentioned to Eleanor, the habits Jason indulged in during his time on Earth have probably made him accustomed to _strong_ experiences. But we can assume most of the human population, starting with our own subjects, haven’t led the same kind of life.”

After handing a glass to his friend and finishing the preparations, both positioned themselves to receive a new batch of memories. 

The problem came when Tahani never opened her eyes after he snapped his fingers.

He stepped closer, tapping her on the shoulder. “Tahani? Are you awake? Tahani!”

Worried, he briefly turned on his recorder. “So… No more antimatter.” He tried waking her again, checking under her eyelids for pupil activity. “Hey, Janet?”

The not-a-woman appeared beside him. “Hi, there! Are you and Tahani ready for your sessions?”

Those were Eleanor’s idea. She remembered Tahani talking about the reboots as the worst kind of therapy she had ever been to and proposed to add the ‘best kind’ into the mix. Or more like the _only_ kind available in the neighborhood: Janet.

“Not quite. You see, Tahani has not actually woken up yet.”

Janet sighed and both looked at their friend. “I’ll be back with a matter reforming antidote.”

* * *

When he opened the door of the office, he found Eleanor sitting on their chair and smiled at her. “Hi!”

“Hey there, you pretty squid.”

He sighed and sat on top of the desk. “How many more times will I have to ask you to stop calling me that?”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head a little as she looked at him. “Keep asking if you want, bud, I’m not stopping. Not until you accept none of us give a crab about that. Like, the fact that you’re a demon isn’t really breaking news, and there’s no problem with the rest. I mean, technically you’re just taller than I thought you were. And I already ask you to pass me things from the upper shelves so no biggie.” She poked his thigh with a pen. “Imagine having a tentacle hand me the fancy plates when we have dinner with the rest. That sounds so cool.”

“Fine, I accept it.” _I don’t_.

At least, in this suit, Eleanor could only see a single pair of eyes rolling.

“No, you don’t. Look me in the eyes and tell me you believe me.”

He leaned in closer and fixed her eyes on hers, his serious expression making her snort. “I believe you.”

“Liar.” Of course she couldn’t be fooled. “And that means you’re breaking our promise again. _And_ you’re not trusting me. So you do our laundry this week, as punishment." Her eyes widened for a second, realization dawning on her face. "Of course I was never in Heaven, I still have to do laundry."

"I _always_ do our laundry."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him, lowering her voice. "Then I'll have to think of something else for you to do."

"Considering you don't do anything around the house, you have to admit I'm the closest thing to Heaven you've known yet."

"Bragging, much? It's easier for you, you just snap your fingers and that's it. I let you have the _very_ human experience of cleaning. You should be thanking me."

"I should _not_. And you should stop leaving socks and shoes around the house."

“I just like hanging out barefoot! What's the problem? I wash my feet in the shower now!” His brow creased and she caved. “Most times.” When Michael opened his mouth to respond, she pointed the pen at his face. "Enough. We'll talk later.”

“Right. There's work to do.”

She rubbed her palms together “Yeah. C'mon, squiddy. Any news to share?”

_For Doug's sake, she's never going to stop._

“I ran into John on my way here. I managed to mention our dear friend ‘Jianyu’ a number of times and he only flinched awkwardly but didn’t try to run away from me. And his comments on the neighborhood were slightly less passive-aggressive than usual.”

Eleanor sighed, massaging her forehead. “Well, I call that progress. I’ll take what I can get. What did he say this time?”

“He asked if there were any water activities planned for the week to explain why the weather was so _interesting_.”

“Agh, using ‘interesting’ like that has _got_ to cost you points. Although, I gotta admit, the day has been kinda _humid_ , bud.”

“It’s negative four points. But it’s less than insulting someone or revealing a secret, so it’s something. And why do people say that? It’s literally impossible! There’s no climate here, no atmosphere. The day can’t be humid. We change those things at our will, and Janet didn’t touch anything.”

“Hey, then how come we don’t get seasons here?”

“Well, for my first neighborhood, the choice of weather was a bit… _tactical_. I had to-”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Annoy the fork out of us. Got it.”

“Exactly. So the days were only slightly _too_ dry. Tahani hated the way it affected her skin, Jason missed the weather of Florida and Chidi got constant paper cuts from flipping book pages.”

Eleanor crossed her arms, intrigued. “What about me?”

He smirked at her. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to figure it out on your own. I’m shocked you haven’t realized already.”

She gasped. “You little bench! Anyways, I always preferred warm weather, so you should’ve gone with winter.”

“You’ve moved on to giving me advice on how to torture you?”

“I’d make a pretty good demon, don’t you think?”

Michael only laughed, remembering times when he used to believe that. “We actually rehearsed a few different options. Snow and sand have a strong torture potential, they’re often used in the regular Bad Place, mostly as-”

She cut him off, raising a palm. “Dude, dude. No details.”

“Sorry. Old habits. I personally wanted a beach setting, but I had to resign myself to place it in a remote sector of the neighborhood. We ran a few tests and it turned out to be too _fun_ for humans.”

They shared a complicit smile, both recalling a number of moments from the last reboot, the one when everything between them truly began. Eleanor rested her head against the chair, looking up at him. “Damn right it did.” Her brow creased. “What about snow?”

“Well, that was discarded pretty soon because I insisted on being there, controlling everything, at least for the first thousand years or so. And sadly, as fun as it seems, snow isn’t really-”

She nodded. “Isn’t really fire squid ground.”

“Exactly.” He shrugged when she gave him a sad look. “I’m used to these things already. My body comes with a couple of limitations.” He leaned closer, nonchalant, trying to get her to stop looking at him like that. “But I like this weather! It’s better than _Florida_ weather, at least. It’s not humid, despite what _John_ says.” The blue light on her chest was starting to embarrass him already. 

Perhaps it was better to just drop the subject entirely. “So, things with Tahani went pretty well today.”

That finally got her to stop frowning at him. “Really?”

“Well, actually, she didn’t react for fifteen minutes, which was a little scary. But nothing strange happened, other than that. I think we might be getting closer.”

“Dude, I told you the antimatter was a bad idea.”

“We don’t know for sure if that was the reason.” Yep, that was definitely the reason. He wouldn’t let her have it, though. “And I’m sorry, is it not enough to leave you in charge of the neighborhood? Want to snatch another job from me already?”

She stood and laughed, walking past him as she neared the door. “No, I don't. But you’re getting the Big Chair for the next hour or so anyways, so suit yourself.”

He followed her, taking a turn around the desk. “Where are you going? I came looking for you, so we could grab lunch.”

That was their usual routine. She took their breakfast down to the office when she got up, they had lunch together around the neighborhood, keeping an eye on the subjects, and finally dinner upstairs, either alone or with Janet, Jason and Tahani. 

And most of the nights without neighborhood events were spent watching movies or at the arcade room. Those were the most fun.

Eleanor sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry, man. I forgot to tell you, but Chidi wanted to invite me to lunch today.” _Oh._ “Is it okay if I skip it?”

Huh. Chidi usually came to see her in the afternoons. He wasn’t sure if his sneaky visits to the man were an influence on that but, just in case, he didn’t stop them. Besides, for some reason, bonding with him seemed easier now that he didn’t have his memories.

Pretty ironic, now that he thought about it.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. No problem.”

She frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah! Of course.”

His hands went to his pockets while one of Eleanor’s thumbs pointed at the door. “Unless you wanna come, too.”

“No, no. It’s fine! I know you like spending time with him.”

“Okay… Thanks, bud. You’re the best wingman ever.”

_Oh, you have no idea._

She placed her hand on the door handle but didn’t move her feet. “Hey, how was the therapy with Janet, by the way?”

“I- I’ll tell you later. Go meet Chidi, don’t make him wait for you.”

“You kidding? Technically, I’ll be waiting for him a full year. C’mon, I can wait a little.”

“It’s fine, Eleanor. I’m serious.”

“Okay, we’ll talk tonight then. Before I kick your ash in the bowling alley.” She opened the door and smiled at him. “See you later-” But when Michael started to turn to the desk, her head popped back into the office and she winked at him. “Pretty squid.”

He looked down and snorted, feeling his cheeks warm up. He kinda liked the ‘pretty’ part.

* * *

Only nighttime found them alone again. Michael had been with Eleanor a few number of times during the afternoon, but always surrounded by one or more subjects. They could easily fall for the smile on her face, but he knew better than that.

She was angry.

He sent her a few questioning glances throughout the day, ones she avoided, always averting her eyes and moving on to the next task. So he decided it was best to wait until they could properly talk. She wasn’t there when he got to the house, so he set the table, prepared dinner and took out a couple of glasses of margarita, guessing she would want to vent, and most likely to drink as well.

_Maybe a pitcher would be better… No, not yet._

And he waited.

Her footsteps were strong and fast against the spiral staircase and her expression was hard when she reached its top. He could see that she felt sad and almost reached out to her, but the look she gave him made him stand back. She eyed the table but didn’t touch anything on it and went to sit on the couch instead, massaging her temples. 

Michael leaned against the nearest wall, facing her. “Rough day? Wanna tell me what happened?”

She crossed her arms and didn’t look at him. “Simone was there. At lunch. I don’t even know how much time I spent there, locked in the apartment with those two, being all romantic. I kept trying to come up with an excuse to leave but I couldn’t even _think._ It felt like my brain was melting just watching him.” She paused, resting her head on her hands. “He looks so _happy_ with her. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. You’re actually very brave for putting up with this.”

“What if I don’t wanna do this anymore?” He barely heard her.

“What do you mean?”

“Agh, I don’t know. Just ignore me. And next time I ask you if you wanna go, you go. Got it?”

“But you didn’t know she was coming, did you?”

“Of course not! I would’ve never said yes if I’d known. But maybe that way we could, I don’t know, have a better time. At least it wouldn’t be just _me_ looking at the two of them getting all domestic. It’s- fork, this is so hard.”

He dared to step closer, sitting on top of the coffee table. “I know it’s difficult for you. But it’s been three months already, we’re a fourth of the year done. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it’s something. And this is important. We need them to become better people and the way to do that is by getting them to bond with each other.”

“It would be easier if that didn’t include them boning, too.” Michael raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, c’mon, it was right there! Don’t judge me.”

“What are you gonna do from now on?”

“Well, if he comes by, that’s fine. But no more plans at his place unless I know Simone’s got other things to do. Or unless you’re there with me.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But why? Do you want me to pretend I’m your soulmate or something?”

Her head shot up at that as she looked at him with a creased brow. “What?! No! That would only make things way, _way_ weirder with Chidi when everything goes back to normal.”

His palms raised in front of his chest and his eyes followed her as she stood and walked across the living room. “Hey, it was just an honest question. I didn’t mean-”

“This isn’t a trashy rom-com. I’m not gonna make him jealous by pretending I’m banging my best friend. _And_ supposed Assistant.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Like, the last thing I need right now is Chidi thinking, as soon as he gets his memories back, that I just gave up on him.”

“He wouldn’t think that and, _again,_ not what I said.”

“I mean, I kinda did something like that on Earth, but I’m a good person now. This isn’t like that time I tried to get into my ex-girlfriend’s brother’s pants. What, Michael? You think I’m just as selfish as I was back then and I’m just gonna play with my ex, who doesn’t even remember me because he made this gigantic sacrifice to _literally_ save humanity?”

 _Was she listening to him?_ He felt incredibly confused, it was almost as if he wasn’t even part of the conversation. “I- I didn’t even suggest that.”

He tried to think back, wondering what were the words that provoked the sharp rays of an almost bloody red color that began to splatter around her aura. He felt them almost puncturing his skin whenever she glared at him, turning to face him every three or four words of her ranting, as she walked the length of the living room, over and over again.

_Why me? I’m not the one who did this to you._

Michael stood as well, watching her. “Eleanor, relax. Listen to me.”

“I don’t wanna relax!”

He tried to step closer to her, holding his palms in front of him. “Okay, don’t relax. Just try to think things through. Chidi sacrificed himself for this experiment. The fact that he lost you is, to him, a sacrifice. The biggest one he could do.”

“I don’t want you to tell me about his forking sacrifice when _I’m_ the one who has to watch him make out with his ex!”

She puzzled him even more with each word she pronounced. Did the Bad Place make an Eleanor suit, somehow? “But- but you _just_ said that. And I- You also get mad when I say _you’re_ the one who made the biggest sacrifice.”

“I’m not mad!”

_Well, tell that to your tone._

He placed his hands on her forearms and fixed his eyes on hers, trying to calm her. “I can literally see that you’re angry right now. I just want to help.”

She shrugged herself off of his touch and kept walking. “Then just stop it with the sacrifice thing.”

“Fine. I’ll stop. What do you need?”

“I need this forking mess to be over already! I can’t take it anymore!”

“Well, unfortunately, we can’t do that. But what we _can_ do is try to make these months a bit easier for you. I can help you with that.”

Michael remembered the time he spent watching the lives his friends were leading on Earth, feeling incredibly helpless each time he wished to help them and couldn’t. As Eleanor’s drive to be ‘ethical’ became increasingly frustrating, he wanted nothing more than to go down to Earth and push her back on the right path, the same one _she_ had guided him through.

The day Madison kicked her out of the apartment, he couldn’t do anything but read a piece of paper telling him that she locked herself in the restaurant bathroom, taking deep breaths to not let the tears fall off. She wouldn’t cry, ‘not over something so stupid’.

He fought _so hard_ not to go down there.

And on her birthday, he just couldn’t leave her alone.

He wished he had powers to give her a cake and a few candles to blow. It was the least she deserved. But he didn’t, so he gave her drinks and finger food, wished her a happy birthday and made sure she got home with a trustworthy cab driver.

“Look, Eleanor. It’s not exactly the same, but I think I understand what you’re going through.”

She stopped walking and stared at him, shocked and angry. “What? _No._ ” She shook her head as her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t understand, Michael. You’ve never been in love. You have no _forking_ idea of what love is. You don’t know what it means or how much it hurts. And you sure as Hell don’t know what it’s like to watch, right in front of your eyes, as the person you’re in love with is falling for somebody else. So no, don’t tell me you understand.”

The way her voice kept breaking with every sentence would’ve usually made him approach her, but his feet felt nailed to the ground. He was frozen. The words she was saying sounded _harsh_ and startled him. They almost sounded like lies. He hadn’t had many experiences in life, but he knew there were many kinds of love and he was sure he had felt at least one of them.

He had friends. He thought that was love.

_I- I ‘don’t understand’? But- but how?_

He felt the need to answer but didn’t even know what to say. So he just stared at her in silence, his mouth slightly open, as she fixed her eyes on his, still glaring and furious. After a couple of seconds, he watched her turn and go up the stairs to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. 

With a wave of his hand, he made all the things on the dining table disappear and went back to the office, deciding to work through the night.

* * *

It took her a couple of days to improve her humor. That didn’t mean she was back to her _usual_ self. Not precisely. That morning, she got up way earlier than usual and she was smiling a bit too much.

It was a little strange.

“Is everything okay?” His brow creased as she handed him a cup of hot cocoa, keeping one for herself and placing a tray of cookies on the desk. That was also strange. They never had the same breakfast. Each day, she asked the cabinet for whatever he was craving and took something else for herself. Besides, he knew she didn’t have his sweet tooth. 

_(And he was actually expecting a cup of french vanilla flavored antimatter)._

Her eyes held a particular glint and the smile she was giving him never seemed to falter. There was an odd air to her and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

His theories about a demon wearing an Eleanor suit came back.

"Right as rain, Mikey, my boy. Why?"

Well, that didn't exactly ease him. He didn't have fond memories of those words. Now he knew for sure: Eleanor Shellstrop was hiding something from him. 

When he stood to give her the chair, he took the chance to look at her more attentively, trying to trace in her aura any kind of feeling that explained this sudden change. The orange, glossy mist of excitement resting around her stomach calmed him a little, but kept him on his toes. Especially when she didn't sit, resting her back against the wall as she stood in front of him. 

Cautiously, he didn't tear his eyes from hers. “Nevermind... So, um, what were our plans for this morning? I check up on Tahani and then we go see how Brent is doing?”

She stared back at him, an almost cheeky smile on her face. “Nope. I talked to Tahani and made some arrangements. We'll have to take a raincheck on that, bud.”

 _What is happening here?_ “What? Why?”

Eleanor started walking backwards, always facing him, and stopped when she reached the window of the office. Then, she slid open the curtains as she spoke. “Well, let's just say mandatory activities are suspended for bad weather.”

Michael approached the window, thinking for a moment he owed the white reflection coming from outside to the way his eyes hadn’t gotten used to morning light yet. Narrowing his eyes a little, he realized it wasn’t. No. The color was simply covering everything, sliding through the roofs of houses and stores, coating the town square and embellishing the mountains on the other side of the neighborhood. He looked up and saw little white crystals falling, slowly, down the artificial skies that were coated with beautifully dense clouds. The sun was still visible, though, only half hidden around the fake East, its light reflecting on each drop, creating miniature rainbows near the ground. A few Janet babies were already outside, staring with ―mostly programmed― surprise on their faces.

Michael’s surprise, however, was not programmed.

When he managed to tear his eyes away from the window, he looked at Eleanor, whose excitement had since turned into joy. “I- What is- How did-?” He heard her snort. “Eleanor, what is this?”

“This is snow, buddy. But don’t worry, it’s fake. Which means, it’s safe for you. I asked Janet if it was possible to make snow that wasn’t _actually_ cold and she said she can literally do anything, so yeah. Then she started explaining a bunch of things I didn’t understand, like condensation and crystallization and _a lot_ of other -ations. I didn’t really listen to that part. But-” She grabbed both his hands. “The important part, the one I _did_ listen to, is that it’s apt for fire squids. She made that _very_ clear for me. So, today, you get to have the full ‘snow day’ experience, without any hidden tentacle you got there getting frostbite, or whatever it is that worries you. Is that okay?”

Michael was just standing there with a dumb grin on his face, as his eyes travelled back and forth from the woman in front of him to the sight out their window. 

“Okay? This is- Oh, this is amazing! Eleanor, wow! This is so beautiful!”

She pulled on one of his hands, dragging him back upstairs. “Well, whatcha waiting for? C’mon, you gotta put something more comfortable so we can go outside!”

Michael had watched his fair share of winter movies. Mostly Christmas ones but also those with dogs that usually made humans cry. But the first time he stepped foot on snow was an entirely new experience, one no screen or file could ever replicate. He heard a soft crunch as the floor sunk, but also seemed to rise, almost enfolding his shoes. Most of the things he was wearing were mostly for show, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a little too warm, but it was all part of the experience.

Words he had repeated so many times since his promotion came back to him once more, almost turning into his personal mantra by now.

_There’s nothing like being there._

He took a look at his side and found Eleanor smiling at him, as her hair began to fill with little crystals. She took a few steps ahead, waving at the humans beginning to arrive. The four subjects appeared as shocked as he was, only Tahani and Janet shared a knowing smile.

While the ‘Architect’ introduced everyone to their special “Snow Day”, Michael turned around, feeling the hit of something on the back of his head. He turned to find Jason already hunched over, apparently preparing another snowball to throw at one of his friends. On a regular day, he would be worried about a supposed monk fooling around in this way, but this was no regular day. And as he heard Eleanor say, this was also a surprise for _him_ , the ‘Assistant’ who had never known snow. So he decided to forget about the experiment, for a little while, and just enjoy himself.

That was surely the most _human_ approach.

_“Sometimes all you guys think about is how you can have the most fun!”_

His hit back to Jason was soon joined by a bunch of Janet babies, turning into an actual snowball fight. He never got tired of the feeling of the snow in his hands and feet, soft and cool but not freezing. Michael felt incredibly happy. He never thought he would be able to experience this. His eyes darted across the square, looking for Eleanor, wanting to let her know how wonderful this all was to him, and found her just at the moment her arm was raising towards him, so he covered his face with his arm right before the projectile got to him. 

He couldn’t count the time they all spent there, laughing and having fun. He made sure to cross off of his list any kind of trivial, human activity that popped up in his mind involving this weather: mostly snow angels and snowmen, that Janet proposed to give life to. The subjects weren’t too thrilled at that idea, most likely remembering the ‘Pictionary incident’. No one was able to convince them. Eleanor promised to take everyone to the other side of town after lunch, where the mountains and the lake would let them go skiing, ice skating and sledding.

Everything seemed incredibly fascinating and exhilarating to Michael. 

A part of him knew he should be worrying about their four residents, but he couldn’t care less about John or Brent right now. He spotted Chidi and Simone nearby, as she tried to get him to go join the others, while his friend was his usual self, hesitant, muttering something at his ‘soulmate’. She took the glasses off of his face and pulled on his hand, saying something that made him laugh. When Michael saw he was about to kiss her, he quickly picked up a handful of snow, rolled it on itself and threw it in his direction, making it land on the side of the man’s head and startling him. When both turned to their sides to look at him, Michael raised his palms and laughed.

“C’mon, Chidi! Loosen up, come have some fun!”

Not waiting for an answer, he glanced around the area, searching for Eleanor. He assumed she was surely looking at the couple and didn’t want to miss the snort she would try to hide at the interrupted kiss. He wouldn’t let the demons at the Bad Place be the only _―what word did she use?―_ ‘corkblockers’ around, after all.

But he couldn’t find her anywhere. Did she leave? His head turned from side to side as he walked backwards, wondering where she might be.

When the back of his legs hit the border of the square stage, he loudly called her. “Eleanor?”

He felt a hand snatching the beanie off of his head. “Right behind you, bud.”

But when he began to turn around to face her, an enormous amount of snow fell down his body, making him gasp in shock.

_What the fork was that?_

When he managed to open his eyes again, he slid the snow off of his shoulders, even knowing a lot of it was already under his clothes. He turned and found Eleanor holding an empty bucket on her hands, looking down at him from above the stage with a triumphant smile on her face.

“This is _payback!_ For all of those paperclip showers.” 

He heard Chidi’s confused tone as he asked “Paperclip _what_?”

Tahani was quick to answer, waving a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t ask, darling.”

He faced Eleanor again, for once towering over him. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Hell, no!” She leaned closer, looking around them before lowering her voice. “I’ve been wanting to do something like that since you dumped iced tea on my head. You had it coming, buddy. And you know what they say: revenge is a dish best served cold.”

He sat right on the border of the square stage, needing to take a break from running around like a little kid. “Joke’s on you, this isn’t even cold.”

She shrugged, still laughing at him. “Meh, it was worth it. So, what’s the verdict? Snow guy or beach guy?”

Michael shook his head, grinning. “This is incredible. I loved it.”

“Hey, we still have the rest of the day ahead of us. Can’t wait to see you fall on your butt as you try ice skating.” Eleanor sat next to him with her knees hugged to her chest.

“What brought all of this? Why did you do it?”

“Well, I haven’t been a good friend these past few days and I just wanted to make it up to you. Sorry for almost biting your head off the other day. You didn’t deserve that.” She threw her arms around him, crushing him with a hug, and spoke with her chin resting on his shoulder. “And hey, what I said was total bullshirt. I mean, _we_ love each other, right? And we all love _you,_ our very own kick-ash fire squid.”

When she pulled back, Michael only smiled at her. With one of her arms still on his shoulder, he reached out to brush the snow off of her hair. As Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, Janet appeared by their side and she let him go.

“Guys, Brent’s escalade got trapped in the snow and he says he wants to talk to you.” The tone of the non-robot’s voice made him snort, as tired as they were of that human. “I told him I could fix it on my own, but he _insisted_ on speaking with the ‘man in charge’ before I do it.”

He nudged Eleanor’s shoulder. “We have to remind him the Architect here is a woman.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Thanks, babe. We’ll be there in a second.” She paused, looking at him. “C’mon, before this idiot threatens to sue us again. I hope we don’t have to deal with anything Brent-y after lunch, I’m already tired.”

As they walked towards their most problematic subject, his car visible at a distance, Michael thought that, far from what he knew of vengeance, this morning filled his chest with a warm feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as I mentioned before, this goes to Katoska and Rose. Credit goes to them for Eleanor's anger, and also big thanks for helping me feel more motivated <3 This is a lovely community.
> 
> And on another note, also involving Rose, I talked to her when she posted the last chapter of "Eye of the Bearimy" because, in an extremelly odd coincidence, I was also planning my next part (aka *this* part, Chapter 7) around snow. I tried to think of something else but I'm too smooth-brained these days. Luckily Rose is the coolest girl ever and was super nice about it.
> 
> Btw, if you're reading this and haven't read *all* of her stories, I'm begging you to click on her user now and go do it. She's a fantastic writer. And I wouldn't be writing at all if it weren't for her.
> 
> I'm not super happy with the way this chapter turned out but, again, feeling really smooth-brained. I'm very excited for what comes next, though! (Eleanor needs to learn to think before she speaks, that's all I'm saying)


	8. Unforgettable

“I was thinking I could write a list.” Tahani’s hands went up to the air, making an arc over her head. “The _ultimate_ bucket list. Well, sort of, since I’m already dead, but you get the idea, dear.”

Eleanor crossed her arms, looking at her friend as she fixed her hair on her vanity desk. "Why a list? Why not just _do_ things as they pop up in your brain, whenever you feel like doing them?"

"Well, I've had nearly fifty ideas in the past two days! There's simply no way I can keep up with everything. By the time the experiment is over, I'll forget half the goals I want to accomplish! Don't you ever make lists, Eleanor?"

"No. I just forget stuff, like a cool person." She got closer to hold her friend's shoulder. "But I'm proud of you, babe. I'm here to help you in any way I can." Tahani smiled at her and squeezed her fingers before standing up and heading to the walk-in closet. Eleanor kept talking to her through the wall that separated them. "Michael says lists are the most 'human' things ever. Like you just write things to yourself instead of asking someone or something to remind you of them. And now that we have seasons, I think he has, like, a list for everything he wants to do in each of them." She giggled. "He's all 'Oh, Eleanor, I want to step on dried leaves!' or 'I wish I could sneeze from smelling a blossoming flower!' Ah, he's such a dork."

Tahani emerged wearing a gorgeous red dress and elegantly walked through the bedroom. "Well, what do you think?"

"I'm thinking you put the 'hot' in 'hot stuff'. Of course you look beautiful. You could wear a trash bag and still pull it off with those legs."

"Oh, thank you, Eleanor! Of course, I would never wear a _bag_ of any kind. Much less a trash bag. The closest I've gotten to that was helping my good friend Diane try on a few more… experimental designs she did back in 2012.” Tahani stared at the distance, grimacing. “They didn't get very far.”

“And what things do you wanna learn? What are some of these trillion ideas you got?”

Tahani sat Eleanor down on the vanity desk and began to do her makeup, shoving her hands away when she tried to protest.

“I can do this on my own, you know?”

“I know you _can,_ darling. But since you’re here, why not help you?”

“You can just say you hate the way I do my makeup because I didn’t go to whatever French or British school for Beautiful Skyscrapers you went to, where you learned a bunch of old techniques for rich people. I know, babe.”

Tahani tried to conceal a smirk. “Oh, that’s not _precisely_ what I meant.” When Eleanor tried to respond, she raised a palm on her direction. “Please, stop talking. You are making this more difficult.” _Yeah, I am._ At least eyes could be rolled without speaking. “To answer your question, I want to start with some basic tasks, such as woodwork or cooking. I also want to try a few activities I couldn’t get around to on Earth, given how controlling my parents were and how paparazzis were always pursuing me. Oh, and I want to visit a Walmart with you, that must be fun.”

“Look, I know you have literally infinity to do all these things, but don’t waste time on that last one. And Michael’s finally grown out of his grocery store phase. I don’t know if I can handle another simulated shopping trip.”

After a couple of minutes, the woman took a step back. “Okay. I’m finished. You can go get dressed now.”

Eleanor stood and walked backwards to the closet, tilting her head at her friend. “Oh, you’re not helping me with this part?” The glare she received as an answer made her snort.

_Let’s see what she thinks of that idea tomorrow._

After changing, Eleanor took a look at herself in the mirror and let out a small gasp. “Wow, I look really hot in this dress. Do you think Michael has a bow tie on this color? I guess I’ll ask him when he’s done checking in with the Judge.”

Tahani leaned against the doorframe, meeting her friend’s eyes through the mirror. “You look lovely, darling. And that color certainly brings out your eyes. But do you think Michael will be ready by the time our party begins?”

“I don’t know. Last time she called, Gen stalled him for like an hour talking about whatever TV show she was binging then. But he _told_ me he would come, so yeah.” 

Eleanor watched her friend open and close her mouth a couple of times as her eyes drifted around the closet. “What?”

“Well… You and Michael seem to be getting along quite well lately. Is that so?”

She waved a dismissive hand around the air. “Yeah! We really are. I know we had a couple of up and downs at first, but I guess that happens when you put two really stubborn people ―or a person and a demon― living together. Wow, sometimes I think about the fact that I _live_ with a demon, a demon who was supposed to torture me. That would be weird if Michael wasn’t like this tall stuffed squid. But yeah, these past couple of months have been really cool. No fights, nothing. Is that why you’re asking?”

Tahani gave her a smile and shook her head. “Yes, sure. Nevermind, darling.”

Eleanor shrugged and walked back to the bedroom, her friend following close behind. She turned to look at her and crossed her arms. “Hey, everything’s set downstairs, right? Because I kinda need to talk to you about something.”

The British woman raised her brows at that. “Oh, you do?”

“Yeah.” She paused to clear her throat. “You guys are doing pretty well with the memory thing, right?”

“Oh, that! Uhm, yes, we truly are! It took almost five months of hard work, but we’ve finally made it. Our last two sessions turned out _perfectly,_ with absolutely no consequences. We managed to fix some sort of misconnection in my brain between short term and long term memories. Apparently, the problem was there. Tomorrow we have our final test try and, if that goes well, Michael will give me the rest of my memories next week.”

“That’s great! But listen-” Eleanor closed her eyes for a second. “I don’t really know how to say this... The last one you recall is reboot #200, right?”

Tahani frowned, beginning to look concerned at her friend’s uncertainty. “Yes. Why?”

Eleanor considered sitting down on her friend’s bed but decided against it. “Well, because… In your next batch of memories, you’re gonna see something _different_. I haven’t told you about this before because I thought it might be weird for you, since you didn’t remember it.”

“Eleanor, you’re scaring me.”

Her hands raised in front of her chest. “No! No, don’t be scared! It’s a good thing. At least, it was a good thing for _me,_ I don’t know if it was for you. At least as good as it seemed? I just-”

“I’m- I’m quite confused.”

Eleanor sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry, I really suck at these kinds of conversations.” _God, I’m having Canada flashbacks._ “I just want to say that I’m here in case you want to talk about some things you might _discover_ about yourself.”

_Wait, that sounded a bit weird. I should correct it._

_Or maybe not. I mean, that dress she’s wearing..._

_Yeah, what the Hell._

“Or maybe you don’t discover anything. Maybe you’re just private about these things. Or maybe you don’t like labels. It’s cool, it’s all cool.”

“What’s ‘cool’? What are ‘these _things’_?”

She shook her head and placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You know what? Nevermind. We'll talk tomorrow, babe. You'll understand then. C’mon, let’s go receive a bunch of non-robots.”

* * *

Michael spotted Eleanor sitting alone at one of the tables, turning his back on him. Smiling, he walked towards her and grazed her shoulder, leaning closer. “Hello.” She gave a little jump, turning her head and slapping his arm when she saw him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t _scare_ me. You wish you could. You just… startled me.”

“Fine. I startled you.” It had been a long time since he gave up on scaring her. He straightened himself on her side. “Good evening, Eleanor.”

She turned her whole body to face him. “Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it. People gathering to move along the rhythm of music, dressed in unnecessarily uncomfortable but certainly elegant outfits and ―most importantly― good food and drinks.”

“Yeah, that last one really seals the deal, right? Too bad you missed dinner. How was the call with Gen?”

“I feel like I’ve watched all seasons of _Bones_ already.” He inspected the couples already dancing. "Have you spoken with any of the subjects yet?"

"Nope. John has been helping Tahani with the planning, that’s good. Jason told me Chidi’s running a bit late (I don’t know _what_ he did to Chidi’s place this time). Simone must be waiting for him. And Brent must be, well, _brenting_ somewhere. It’s not like I’ll go looking for the guy.”

Michael extended a hand at her. “Well, while we wait for something interesting to happen, just how inappropriate would it be to ask my ‘boss’ for the next piece?”

She took it, standing up. “You know, I was asking myself the same thing about my Assistant.”

“No, you weren’t.” He laughed and led her to the dancefloor, already filled with Janet babies. Stretching out his arm, he had a chance to look at her. She was wearing a long, dark blue dress that reached the floor and left her shoulders bare. The fabric seemed so soft he wanted to dance with her just to have an excuse to touch it. And also, well, to dance with Eleanor.

> _We go to a party and everyone turns to see_
> 
> _This beautiful lady that's walking around with me_

He assumed she was wearing heels, because when one of his hands landed on her middle back and the other closed around her fingers, he didn’t feel the need to lower his head that much to look at her.

“You're right, I wasn't. I suck at this, Michael." She moved her feet with uncertainty, looking around the room.

"No, you don't. You're a great dancer."

"I'm a forking awesome dancer, at fun, cool dances. The ones where you actually _move_ your body. But I don't think 'Architects' are supposed to have real hips or waists to move."

"Well, thank you, Eleanor. First my butt and now this?"

Michael realized she wasn’t paying attention and turned his head to the side, following her gaze. Chidi and Simone were walking into Tahani’s mansion, hand in hand. His partner almost tripped on his feet, not tearing her eyes away from them.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that staring is rude?”

“My parents _were_ super rude, they didn’t teach me anything good. And I’m not staring, I’m… observing them. I need to study their ethical progress.”

> _I feel wonderful because I see_
> 
> _The love light in your eyes_

“As they dance? Yes, I must have missed that section of _A Treatise of Human Nature._ The morals of ballroom etiquette.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t look that good on you, bro… Shirt, they look so good together.”

“Oh, Eleanor, don’t say that.”

“Kinda hard to think of anything else now. And he looks so forking hot in that suit. I should’ve never come up with that stupid soulmate plan.”

Michael knew she was afraid of what could happen after the experiment was over and both Chidi and Simone got their memories back. He tried to think of a way to express she had nothing to worry about, that no Chidi in his right mind would forget how deeply in love he was with her. He knew that, as soon as he remembered all the incredible complexities that made up the Real Eleanor Shellstrop ―old words with a completely brand new meaning―, he would jump right back into her arms.

He would be an idiot if he didn’t.

And yet, she was still staring.

> _And the wonder of it all_
> 
> _Is that you just don't realize how much I love you_

“Hey, they’re going to notice you’re watching. In a room full of ‘residents’, don’t you think it can seem a bit suspicious?”

“ _No._ And look who’s talking. You were always watching us, too.”

“Exactly. And you kept figuring it all out.”

Eleanor let go of his hand to wave at the distance, a fake smile on her face. “Fork, Simone caught me.”

 _I told you so._ “It’s okay. Just act naturally, pretend you’re talking to me.”

She nervously looked around, in a very _non_ natural way. They had to be particularly cautious with the scientist. If any of the subjects could figure out this place was not what they were told, that was her. “I _am_ talking to you.”

“Then look at me.” She finally turned her head to face him, fixing her eyes on his. “That’s it. Just stay here. Stop looking at them.”

With a snap of his fingers, he switched the color of his black bow tie to match her dress, knowing that would make her smile. He then held up his hand to grab the one she had been fidgeting around for the past minute, but she didn’t take it. Instead, as the song changed, Eleanor closed her arms around his neck.

“Well, I gotta admit the view’s also pretty nice over here.”

Michael laughed and briefly glanced at his shoes, lowering his empty hand to meet the one already resting on her back.

> _I was tired of hurting, so tired of searching_
> 
> _Until you walked into my life_
> 
> _It was a feeling I'd never known_
> 
> _And for the first time I didn't feel alone_

“How can you blush if you don’t have blood?”

_Oh, I’m blushing?_

“My body imitates the human form in pretty much every way. The only thing I can’t do is sleep. Or die. And by the way, you know I’m not equipped with parameters to judge aesthetic or physical appearance but, I _am_ familiar with what every human society has ever thought of that. And tonight, anyone would say that you look _very_ acceptable.”

“Wow, Michael, I’m swooned.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t look that good on you, either.”

> _I fall in love all over_
> 
> _Every time I look at you_
> 
> _I don't know where I'd be_
> 
> _Without you here with me_

After a moment of silence, he let out a small grin, looking at the rest of the couples dancing.

“Whatcha thinking, bud?”

“Nothing… Nothing.” When he glanced back at her, she was squinting her eyes at him. “Fine. It’s just- sometimes I think about how much has changed in such a short amount of time. All those years we spent fighting, yelling and making each other miserable-”

“With me stabbing you…” She added, in a dreamy, cheerful tone, making him laugh.

“You stabbing me... But we spent all that time doing that and, somehow, it feels as if I had been friends with you for longer. And now, we’re here, trying to pull off the most insane thing we’ve ever done. So I was just thinking that, if I had known I would be this happy on the ‘other’ side, I would’ve switched sooner. That’s all.”

> _You stand by me, you believe in me_
> 
> _Like nobody ever has_
> 
> _When my world goes crazy_
> 
> _You're right there to save me_

Eleanor smiled at that, opening her mouth before closing it again. It was okay, he didn’t need her to say anything. Michael allowed a few of his fingers to trace a piece of her spine, travelling upwards, passing the hem of her dress and almost reaching the nape of her neck before going back down. He watched her skin fill with little mountains and he couldn’t keep himself from studying them.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head, watching him with a warm expression on her face. “No.” Still smiling, she rested her head on his chest.

“It’s so weird… not hearing a heartbeat.”

He wanted to tell her that he could always listen to hers when she walked into a room, but no words came out of his lips.

> _Life with you makes perfect sense_
> 
> _You're my best friend_
> 
> _You're my best friend_

So they just kept dancing. As he watched Tahani going back and forth through the room, being her best hostess self, he wondered if he should help her. Brent was pretty much chasing her, with John right behind them, trying to save her from him (that one was finally starting to improve, Michael could see that). Jason was nowhere to be seen, probably hidden somewhere with Janet, and Chidi and Simone were still dancing. 

He knew Eleanor was surely looking at them.

Tahani caught his eyes and waved at him, making him realize that he hadn’t even made a turn around the room before asking the woman with him for a dance.

_I’m sorry, Tahani._

_But I really don’t want to let go now. I don’t know why._

He felt Eleanor suddenly still in his arms as another song started to resonate in his ears. He fought hard to concentrate enough to listen to it.

> _Unforgettable_
> 
> _That’s what you are_
> 
> _Unforgettable_
> 
> _Tho' near or far_

Damn it.

Who the fork even requested this? He knew Tahani would never deliberately play it, not with Chidi and Eleanor apart.

Michael moved one of his hands to her shoulder and pulled her back, waiting until she looked at him. “Want to go outside? Grab some fresh air?” She just nodded, so he guided her to Tahani’s garden.

* * *

They were sitting on one of the benches, staring at the fountain in silence. Eleanor had placed her head on his shoulder, holding him with a hand on his back. His fingers kept drawing little circles around her knee while she rested the weight of her body on his. 

And to think he used to worry about boundaries.

“Can I tell you something, Eleanor?”

She only hummed in response.

“If no one had to force you out of their minds for reasons quite larger than them, no one would be able to forget you. No one would _want_ to forget you.”

“I don’t know. People on Earth forgot about me pretty quickly. My mom didn't even look for me when she became a _good person_.”

“Well, your mom is… Let’s just say I’ve grown less fond of your mom over time. I’m even starting to think Dave doesn’t deserve her.”

She snorted.

“I'm serious, Eleanor.” He shook a finger in her direction, and remembered she told him he always did that when he was trying to make a strong point. Well, this was such case. “That day you told me you were not worth changing for. It took me a while to recognize that the reason I didn’t know what to say to that was... Well-” He couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “I was a little embarrassed. I knew you, but you didn’t truly know me. You didn’t remember me. I guess I didn’t want to scare you off. But-” The fingers resting on her knee straightened, pressing on her clothes, wanting to hold as much of her as they possibly could. Michael wanted her to know that he would not let her go, ever. 

“...But _you_ made _me_ change. I mean, the classes did a bit, the whole group, too. I was having friends for the first time, and I liked that. Janet did a large part, a very large part. And Chidi did-” He swallowed, “ what was probably the hardest part. But _you_ …”

He let his head fall on hers, feeling the strands of her hair tickling his cheek. He wondered what it would feel like to brush his lips against it, and if she would be bothered by that. He tried to find the words to make her realize just how important she had been ―and she still was― for him, but couldn’t find any, so he just laughed. 

It _was_ almost funny. Eleanor Shellstrop thinking she was, in any way, forgettable.

“You made a demon _want_ to be good.” His voice lowered, as a thought he didn’t intend to express slipped through his mouth. “Is that not enough?” 

_Is that not enough to make you understand how remarkable you are?_

“...I told you once that there were things about my past I would much rather forget. But my existence would mean so _little_ if I had never met you. Every time I think about the things I did, I feel nothing but shame. But if erasing that meant erasing _you_ , I think I prefer to live knowing I’m a monster.”

She rushed to hold his hand, sliding her fingers through his as his thumb went back to drawing circles around her knee.

“...You are so unbelievably _fascinating,_ Eleanor. I don’t think I can even describe all the reasons why I believe that.”

Michael took a look at the fingers tangled on her leg and inched his head farther to smile down at her. He found her staring at him with bright, glossy eyes. It wasn’t the first time he couldn’t manage to read her aura, too drowned in his own thoughts. He didn’t know when it first happened, but some time had passed since he could tell what she was feeling by only glancing at her.

He couldn’t even glance at her anymore.

He could only gaze, mostly in awe, at the wonderful creature now snuggled up next to him.

He didn’t know how to call it, but it felt like his most human emotion yet.

She licked her lips before speaking. “You’re not a monster. Never been one.”

He briefly turned at the fountain, wondering if he would ever truly believe that.

“Do you mind if I go home?” Her voice broke a little and Michael mentally slapped himself for saying something that probably hurt her.

“Oh, of course not. Are you tired?” She just nodded. “Okay, then.”

Eleanor took her free hand to hold down his face with it, briefly stroking his jawline. He followed her eyes as they traced his features, perceiving a small frown between her brows. When he was about to ask her what was wrong, she leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Michael.”

His hand fell on the bench when she stood. 

He began to worry. She seemed… scared. He wasn’t sure. Not anymore. “Would you like me to join you?”

“No. Thanks, but I think I need to be alone for a little while.” She took two tentative steps backwards, opening her mouth before closing it again. And after that, she turned and he watched her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the Schuriverse reference?
> 
> Link to a beautiful cover that has the fluffy 'air' of this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I39QkXoDAOA
> 
> And, last but not least, the picture that inspired the garden scene: https://www.instagram.com/p/B4lsdDOl0Y_/ (I love those two so much).


	9. The Illusions of Choice

_Okay, Eleanor._

_Last warning._

_How many more times will I —and by I, I mean you— have to ask you to stop thinking about this?_

_It didn't mean anything. Just- just stop twirling words around your head. There's no use to it._

_Everything is fine._

Except it wasn't. Because, for the first time since she met him, Eleanor was afraid of Michael.

Well, that wasn't an accurate way of phrasing it.

Eleanor was afraid of _facing_ Michael.

_What was that? Am I crazy or did that almost sound like..? It seemed as if he was-_

_But it's not like he wants to- I mean, it didn't sound like some sort of… proposition, did it? (Oh shirt, what was that word?) Because, seriously, he wasn't_ really _trying to… you know._

 _Oh, but the things he said... Did he really mean that? It was so_ special. _And sweet. And I really don't want to think about what it could mean. But I kinda want to think about those words. Just those words._

_Eleanor, stop smiling!_

So, she didn't _precisely_ sleep in. But, in a way, she wanted him to think so. He always left earlier than usual when he met Tahani anyways, so she just chilled in her room for a couple of hours, trying ―and failing― not to think about the events of the previous night. It wouldn’t be the first time she stayed in bed longer after a late evening, so it wasn’t like Michael would have reasons to suspect anything was odd.

And after he left, she managed to avoid him for the major part of the day, wandering through more remote sectors of the neighborhood and playing video games with Jason in his budhole. It was all cool, she just needed time to think things through. To review memories of dances, touches, words… Why did she-? Oh, she should've been more careful. 

Eleanor sighed.

 _"You made a demon_ want _to be good."_

Well, those were just words, right? Yeah, words from a friend. A very good friend. That was it. There was no need to worry.

But- but what if they weren’t? How long had he been… feeling this way?

 _“I could’ve just asked you if something was wrong. Look, you were different, yeah. There’s something in your eyes, something I can’t explain. I don’t see all the things you do, but I_ do _know you.”_

It felt as if she had found the last piece of a puzzle she wasn’t aware even existed. Much less, that she had been trying to solve. So much made sense since last night, and that thought _scared_ her. What if that ‘new Michael’ she noticed in the first month had another reason to be different? To look at her like he did? To tell her the things he told her? Was he even different at all? Or was she only now starting to pay attention?

_“Hey, guess what? I just solved the trolley problem.”_

Since- since when?

 _Oh fork, the things I’ve said to him!_

Eleanor rubbed her temples and kept walking. She thought she had suffered a fair share of torture by now, but her brain kept betraying her on its own, without the help of any evil demon.

_“...You sure as Hell don’t know what it’s like to watch, right in front of your eyes, as the person you’re in lo-”_

_Stop._

_Please. Please, stupid brain. Just stop._

Why, _why_ did she splur that out? Why did she just say things without thinking first? 

_Damn it. I- I had_ no _idea. I swear I had no idea..._

And it wasn't like she _believed_ it, either. Not really. She was angry and needed to explode, and Michael was- was _there._ It wasn't about _him,_ not really. The things she said didn't have anything to do with him or even with herself.

_Did they?_

If anything, _she_ was the one who found herself wondering, over and over, what it would be like to-

If she had known-

_Oh fork, what should I do?_

But hey, maybe she was wrong about everything! Maybe there was nothing there and he was just being nice. Michael was nice, right? The nicest! That made sense. Besides, he had always been incredibly supportive of her relationship with Chidi. 

Although, it wasn’t like that made any real difference. She knew that better than anyone.

_“Chidi, you and Simone are... soulmates.”_

But maybe this wasn’t such a big deal. Or, at least, it didn’t have to be. After all, it wasn’t like he made some sort of desperate, undying confession to her. She could just pretend it never happened and keep things the way they were. And she didn’t have to forget the fact that he didn’t really _say_ anything specific. This was a classic grey area situation. Yeah, she didn’t have to assume these things. She was probably overreacting. 

But was that fair on him?

And what if _she-_?

 _No._ No, don’t go there. Don’t open that door. Don’t forget- 

"Eleanor?"

_Oh, fork. Right now?_

She would usually be _so_ thrilled to see him, and she was, in a way. But this moment was simply too difficult already to have to slip into her fake ‘Architect’ persona. And specially, to pretend that he didn’t have anything to do with the vast amount of thoughts rushing through her brain right now.

"Chidi! What are you doing this far down the neighborhood?"

It almost seemed like a cruel joke. To be here, alone with him, at the edge of the lake where they had their first kiss on #119. She was expecting to walk past this place rather quickly and reach the small forest nearby, to sit down there for a while and just rest. But nothing seemed to come out easily for her lately.

_Why right here and right now? Damn it._

He shrugged, smiling at her. “I really like this place. It has a calm and peaceful atmosphere. I like to sit on that bench and read.” _Please don’t say it. I know what you’re going to say. Please, don’t say it._ “Simone likes it, too."

_Oh, fork me._

This was too much, too much for a single day.

Eleanor felt her entire body freeze. She wondered what it would be like to drown in a lake such as the one next to them, because this felt similar to what she imagined. Even with her mouth open, no air was able to pass through her lungs; her head felt incredibly heavy and tired, and her legs ached from the exhaustion of walking practically all day long. She figured the water would make her chest feel as tight as it did now and her eyes this sore. 

Yet she couldn’t show any of it.

It almost seemed like a nightmare: she tried and tried to run, to swim back to the surface, but she couldn’t even move her feet, haunted by invisible ghosts that banned silence away from her ears. She wished she could, at least, deal with a high pitched ringing or something equally annoying, instead of the mess of thoughts and feelings stalking closely behind her steps.

She felt like she was drowning from the inside out.

_He doesn't remember me. He doesn't remember coming here with me._

_He brought_ her _here._

_"... I'm gonna miss you so much"_

_"...If I had known I would be this happy-"_

_"...I rather be here, helping you"_

_"...You don't deserve this, Eleanor"_

_"...I love you, too"_

_"...You are so unbelievably fascinating"_

_Damn it. That's enough!_

Michael could tell her what the fork was surrounding her aura. She wished she could ask him, because she didn't even understand herself. Too bad there was only one nine-dimension-seeing reformed demon around. And she was avoiding him.

Chidi extended an arm at the air, looking at her. 

_Snap out of it, Shellstrop. He’s talking to you. Listen._

“-said it made you question a lot of things about the universe.” A book landed on his hand, making her smile. _You’re okay. Relax. Everything will be fine. Look how cute he is with his Thor powers. Just breathe and listen._ “And I thought that, if you liked that one, there’s another book of Dancy that you might find interesting. It’s called _Practical Reality._ It’s about the reasons _why_ we do the things we do, how our beliefs, desires, external influences and relationships affect the ways in which we make decisions.”

Eleanor took a deep breath, trying to relax as he gave her the book, and tried to walk away from him. “Thanks, Chidi. I’ll give it back to you as soon as I can read it.”

“No, no. This one's for you! I- I want you to keep it.” He took a step closer to her and opened the cover, revealing a handwritten dedication inside.

_Dear Eleanor: this book reminded me of you. I hope you enjoy it. Your friend, C. A._

“...I know you can just ask Janet anything you want, but I wanted to give you something. You’re always doing things for all of us, so-”

She found herself grinning. The last thing she wanted now was to think about philosophy, but Chidi’s gesture felt like the anchor she needed to calm herself down.

_Only a few more months. Just wait a few more months to have him back with you._

“This is very nice of you, Chidi. I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

She fixed her eyes on his and thought about how much she missed making him smile like that every day. _Just a few more months…_

“Sorry I haven’t paid a visit to you in a while. My study group with... Jianyu has been taking a lot of my time. And I know you must be very busy, but I would really like us to meet again sometime. Simone also told me she would like to get to know you and Michael better. So the four of us could do something, sometime, if you two want to. Like a couple of soulmates, I guess.”

Her smile disappeared as her eyes widened. “No!” _That was too drastic._ Eleanor cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s a _great_ idea! And I’m sure he would agree. But Michael and I are not- are not soulmates. We’re not-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I assumed- It’s just you’re always so-”

She cut him off, not wanting to hear the reasons behind his theory. “He’s my best friend. We’re just really good friends, Chidi. Old friends.” She stuck a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at the lake. She felt the overwhelming need to talk to _her_ Chidi, the one that would be back by the end of the year. He would be back, right? “But _love_ actually exists for immortal beings, as well. And since you and I are friends too, I guess I can tell you that I’m… I’m actually in love with someone else.”

Chidi sat on the bench and she hesitated for a moment before settling next to him. “Oh. And where are they? You never seem to leave the neighborhood.”

She gave him a sad smile. “He’s... with his soulmate now. Your case and Simone’s, Chidi, is rare. People don’t usually die at the same time their soulmates do. Some have to wait years to finally meet them. The universe isn’t perfect. And for us, it’s the same. Sometimes we have to make hard choices.”

“So he _chose_ to leave you? Or was he forced to do it?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to control the tone of her voice, keeping it from trembling. “I don’t think he had a choice at all.” She glanced at him. “I mean, is there really another option when you get told you have a soulmate?”

He was frowning, a somewhat sad expression on his face. “I suppose not.” Chidi turned on his side to face her. "And when will you meet your soulmate?"

She shrugged, staring right at him. “I guess that, when the time comes, we’ll be together.”

“Listen, Eleanor. You know very well that I’ve always had a hard time making decisions.” He crossed his arms, pensive. “I think our lives ―and our afterlives now, too― are paths we have to cross. Using philosophy, I try to understand how these paths might work, to find a way to guide our actions. And I know that, when the universe is the one that gives us _the answer,_ it can be painful, because we feel as if we don’t have real _agency,_ but I think it can be comforting sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You _have_ a soulmate, somewhere. Everyone does, you told me so yourself. The universe will lead you towards them, eventually. You’re smart, kind and, at least to the human eye, you’re- you’re clearly... symmetrical.” He cleared his throat and she had to contain a smile. “I think any immortal being would be lucky to turn into the object of your attentions. Things might be hard now but, if he’s happy with his soulmate, I’m sure you’ll be happy with yours, too.”

Her face dropped and she couldn’t help her voice from breaking. “Is that what you believe? Seriously?”

“Of course I do.”

* * *

Her knocks on Tahani’s door were frantic and perhaps too many, but she _really_ didn’t want to keep waiting. When the woman appeared at the entrance, Eleanor saw her dumbfounded expression and just nodded.

“Yeah, I know. But one question first: Michael’s not here, right?”

“No, he's not. Uhm. You and I.” She paused, a single finger moving back and forth between both of them as Eleanor walked into the house. “You and I. We were-”

“Yep.”

“Soulmates? You and I?”

“Still yep. Well, not really. Michael made that up, but we were a thing, yeah.”

“We had a- a relationship. But you’re- And I’m- Well, I _thought_ I was- Am I-?” The British woman seemed nailed to the floor, a quite confused expression on her face.

“Wanna sit down, babe?" She held Tahani's shoulder to settle them both on one of her couches, but Eleanor only managed to remain still for a couple of seconds, before grunting and standing to pace around the room.

Her friend followed her movements with concerned eyes. "You seem distressed, darling."

“It’s- I’m fine. It’s fine. Let’s talk about _our_ thing and then I’ll tell you. I’m listening, I just really need to keep moving right now. So, c’mon, spill it.” She paused, pointing a thumb at herself. “Hottest ex you’ve ever had, right?” Tahani gave her a small laugh and both took a moment to relax. Eleanor closed her eyes for a second, deciding to postpone her current worries for a moment. 

She stood in front of her friend, fixing her eyes on hers. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about us. It’s not like I _wanted_ to hide this from you, but it _technically_ didn’t happen and you didn’t remember it. I just- when _I_ remembered, I felt like telling you would be like forcing you out of the closet, in a way. Well, I don’t even know if you _feel_ in some sort of closet to begin with. Maybe it was just a ‘she is my soulmate so I _have_ to like her’ situation? But back then, you told me that you never thought about girls that way and I assumed that didn’t change in your ‘second life’. So I just didn’t wanna push you. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it does. Don’t worry, Eleanor. You do not have to apologize for anything.” Tahani paused, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times. “But… Can I ask you how did you _know_?”

“What? That I’m bi?” Her friend nodded and Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve always known. Guys, hot. Girls, hot. Everyone else, hot. It’s just the way it was for me.”

Tahani slowly shook her head. “I never considered it. I just grew up believing that I was supposed to be with men, because I was a woman, and that’s what people told me. That’s what my parents told me. I mean, I’ve always accepted any and all sexual orientations, I’ve organized charities to defend the rights of the community but… I feel like I didn’t give myself permission to ask what _I_ wanted. I _liked_ you, Eleanor. I really did. I remember that very clearly. And now, I’m starting to wonder about certain friendships I’ve had on Earth. What if I was actually-”

“Into them? Yeah, maybe. Some people need a couple of drinks to admit some stuff and by that time they’re already in the bathroom of a shady club tonguing one of their girlfriends.” She paused. “Not based on a real example.”

“Eleanor!”

“Fine, based on a real example. I was the girlfriend.”

Tahani gave her a small smile. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, babe. Anything."

“When I was a little girl, I had this friend. I told her one day that, if I were a boy, I would've liked to marry her. I had forgotten about that until this morning. And now I keep remembering that, every time I kissed a boy, I thought: 'okay, I like this, so I like boys. And, if I like boys, then I mustn't like girls. So I have nothing to worry about'. I kept thinking that during my entire life. But now I feel like I missed _so much_ , so much freedom, because I thought I had to choose.”

Eleanor shook her head, crouching to hold her friend’s hand. “That’s a lie, gorgeous. That’s a lie we’ve all heard once. We don’t have to choose these things. Just… feel them. Follow your gut and have fun wanting whatever you want. Or whoever you want.”

Tahani closed the gap between them to hug her. “Thank you so much, Eleanor. I must admit I still feel quite confused but you’ve helped me today.”

“I’m here, okay? For whatever you need. And I would usually volunteer for any new items you might have on your list right now-” Tahani laughed out loud, letting her go. “But I kinda have my hands full at the moment.”

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

Eleanor stood again, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve had a _very_ confusing day.”

“I guess both of us have…” Tahani paused, looking at her with a creased brow. “Is this about Michael?”

Eleanor thought best not to ask her how she figured it out. “It’s not just him.” Her feet slowly moved as she went back to pacing through the sitting room. “But yeah. Last night, Michael started saying a bunch of nice things about me. Really, really nice things-” _Don’t smile like that, Shellstrop._ “and it kinda made me think- Tahani, I think he might- I mean, what if he-?”

Her friend cut off her babbling. “Has feelings for you.”

Eleanor grimaced, covering her eyes with her hands. “Damn it, Tahani. Don’t use that word!”

“You weren’t using _any_ words yourself! At least, you’re _finally_ talking about this.”

Eleanor stopped in her tracks, staring at her. “What did you just say?”

“Forgive me, Eleanor, but for a while now I’ve had the feeling that you two have some sort of special... connection. Maybe you’re a bit more _fond_ of each other than you dare to admit.”

“What the _fork_ makes you think that?”

“For starters, you just _now_ said that you think Michael could have-” Eleanor winced and Tahani cut herself off. “But you both have this way of looking at each other that’s quite... telling.” Her tone was soft and the words were slow, as if she was trying not to upset or surprise her.

But Eleanor still had room for surprises today.

She shook her head vigorously. “No. No, we don’t. That’s- you don’t know what you’re saying, Tahani. That’s not true. And _please_ , don’t say we do that because, if you believe that and if Chidi believes that-”

“What do you mean by ‘if Chidi believes that’?”

Eleanor swallowed, blinking a couple of times to try and regain her composure. For now, she was failing at it. “I was just with Chidi. I ran into him, by the lake. _The_ lake. We were talking and it turns out he thinks Michael and I are… soulmates. I told him we weren’t and we kept talking but then he said this other _thing_ and I don’t know what he meant by it and I don’t know what to do and I’m starting to get Jason when he says his head is full of rocks because I feel like I’m losing my forking mind and I-”

“Eleanor, breathe! What did Chidi say?”

“He said that… that if he was happy with his soulmate, I’ll be happy with mine.”

One of Tahani’s hands went up to the air as she stared, baffled, at her friend. “He said he was happy with Simone?”

Eleanor looked down at her feet. “Not really. He didn’t know I was talking about _him_. I was trying to- fork, it’s hard to explain. But I bet he meant something by that.” She rubbed her temples. 

Tahani stood, getting her friend to meet her eyes. “He doesn’t remember you. It didn’t mean anything. You’re reading too much into this. When Chidi gets his memories back, you’ll be together again.”

Her voice broke as she looked up. “What if we’re not? He started saying a bunch of things about the universe and paths people have and whatever. Chidi doesn’t just _say_ things like those. What if this stupid experiment drives us apart, somehow?”

“Can you tell me exactly what he said?”

Eleanor shared with her friend the details of the talk she’d had with Chidi moments before she quickly walked back to the residential area of the neighborhood, searching for her. 

Tahani seemed more relaxed since that. _That was good, right?_ “He’s becoming more confident, Eleanor. That’s the whole point of what we’re doing. Chidi needs to improve. This is _good_. He’s getting better, he’s less indecisive."

Her eyes wandered around the room, too bright and blurry by now. "I can't stop thinking about what he said. He must’ve meant something with that 'finding my soulmate' thing.”

“Why do you keep asking yourself that? I seriously don’t see anything wrong with what he said! He even complimented you!" She paused. "But... maybe you _want_ him to mean something.”

At that, Eleanor fixed her eyes on Tahani's, shocked. “What?”

She crossed her arms, staring back with an intrigued expression on her face. “Do _you_ have feelings for Michael?”

Her eyes widened as she found herself gasping. “Of _course_ I don’t!”

“Eleanor, look, I’m not saying you don’t love Chidi. And I’m not saying you’re in love with Michael. But have you perhaps considered the possibility that you might be… carrying a little _torch_ for him?”

The thumping ache on her head only worsened every time she shook it. But Tahani didn’t understand. _No. No. No._ “I'm not. You’re wrong. I'm not. I'm not."

_I'm not._

Her friend’s hand grazed her forearm, soothing. “Maybe there’s no reason for you to worry. Everyone has passing infatuations, it doesn’t necessarily mean something. Except that, of course, unless you talk about this, you can’t be certain of the depth of-”

Eleanor cringed, interrupting her. “Please don’t say Michael’s feelings.”

Tahani’s arms opened, before she crossed them again. “Well, I didn’t need to.”

She was astounded, shocked at the _completely_ insane theories of her friend. Couldn’t people realize that she was trying not to be selfish anymore? That she was getting better? “I can’t believe you think that. How could I do that to Chidi? I don’t know _where_ you’re getting these ideas, Tahani. But _no._ I don’t have feelings for Michael. I don’t. I seriously don’t.”

_Was that clear enough?_

_Or should she pepper in a couple more negatives?_

The woman slowly nodded. “Fine.” Eleanor sighed. “But I must ask: have you said anything to him about what happened last night?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to find an excuse for basically hiding from her roomie. “I- I haven’t actually seen him today.”

“You spent the _entire_ day avoiding him?! Eleanor, what if you were needed for the experiment?”

She rolled her eyes, already frustrated. “Oh, Janet could’ve found me. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Tahani.”

She took a step closer. “And what are you going to do now?”

“With what?” Eleanor was on her side, practically turning her back on the other woman, as she avoided her eyes.

“With Michael, of course! This is clearly troubling you. Have you considered your living situation?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

She waved a hand in the air. “Well, I suppose you don’t want things to become uncomfortable between the two of you. If you’re so unsure of his feelings that you’ve run away from him all day long, do you seriously believe you can live together?”

Eleanor’s arm pointed at the window, from where the office could be seen a bit far away. “I can’t just move out! Much less kick him out of his own office.”

Tahani’s brows creased. “Why not move out?”

“Because- because I can’t. I mean, what are the residents gonna think? Michael lives in _my_ office and I just _move_ someplace else? That doesn’t make any sense. And- and where would _I_ go?” Her friend stayed silent, staring at her. She knew those reasons weren’t solid enough. They didn’t fool her when Michael offered her the place. And apparently Tahani wouldn't fall for them, either. So Eleanor shrugged, clenching her jaw. “Fine. I don’t wanna move out. I like living with him.”

She tilted her head to one side, concerned. “I think you need to talk to Michael, darling. And you need to ponder what you will do by the end of this year.”

_‘Ponder’ what?_

_Why couldn’t they see it?_ She didn’t want to hurt them. She wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t selfish anymore. It was all about trying, right? And she was really, _really_ trying. She wouldn’t- she _couldn’t_ ponder anything. That would only cause pain and she wasn’t that person anymore.

She wasn’t.

She _wasn’t._

_Was she?_

“I have _nothing_ to think about!" Her feet began to move again, as she went back to her pacing, before she directed herself towards the door. "And you know what? I think I'm gonna go. Might be for the best.”

"Eleanor, wait. Don't-"

She sharply turned around to face the other woman and crossed her arms. “I’m gonna ask you a question. Do you think our relationship would've happened again, if Michael had _decided_ to pair us up some other time?"

After a moment of silence, Tahani answered in a low voice. "I honestly can't say for sure."

“I know you can’t.” She raised a single eyebrow. “And you know why is that? Because this whole little ‘soulmate’ project is way too insane. And the more you think about it, the more you realize that the things it does to your brain are pretty forked up.”

“What _on Earth_ are you talking about?”

_Stupid ‘agency’, stupid universe. Stupid soulmates. None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for that stupid idea._

_Stupid Michael._

_… Stupid me._

She swallowed. “I’m saying that _no one_ should have that kind of power. It’s wrong. It’s _really_ wrong.”

Tahani came to stand in front of her, showing her hands in front of her chest. “Eleanor, there are wise ways to handle this problem, and I fear you might do something a bit… impulsive.” She pointed to the couch. “Why don’t you sit down for a few more minutes and try to relax?”

She shrugged, looking at the other woman. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything. I just wanna go home... But don’t you _dare_ ask me to ponder anything, Tahani.”

* * *

The sky had already darkened when she closed the door and quickly made her way back to the office.

_“People don’t usually die at the same time their soulmates do. Some have to wait years to finally meet them. The universe isn’t perfect.”_

What a crabload of bullshirt. 

Even someone as human as Eleanor Shellstrop could put two and two together and realize that, if Jeremy Bearimy worked in the way she understood it, soulmates could always be in the same neighborhood. ‘Earth time’ wouldn’t have anything to do with that.

That the universe wasn’t perfect? Well, she hit the nail with that one.

What a stupid, mindforking and twisted concept. _Soulmates._

And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder-

 _“Do_ you _have feelings for Michael?”_

No. _No, I don’t._

_I don’t._

_I really don't. I-?_

Why couldn’t the rest understand? How did they walk around just _assuming_ things about everyone else?

Unless- unless she was the lost one. Because, somehow, it seemed as if they all had a clearer picture of their existences in mind. How did they do it? Maybe she had caught some _Chidiness_ throughout the years. Or maybe there was a reason human beings only lived up to 90-something because the unstopping mumbles that dripped down her brain, thick and tiresome, were simply too overwhelming. 

Primitive memo-whatever systems, _my ash._

Michael was wrong. She had no problem remembering it all. She just wished she could forget some of it, instead. Because, now, she felt dazed ―almost knocked out― by a torrent of memories, voices and smiles that seemed to make their way into _everywhere._ As much as she tried not to think about it, her mind kept coming back to lakes and bars, portals and rainstorms, her old and new houses, the beach and the alley- And she still had _eternity_ left.

And why was Chidi’s love _guaranteed_ on a series of tapes and videos while Michael always stood _right_ in front of her to look at her like he did? 

_“...You need to erase my memory and reboot me.”_

_“...If erasing that meant erasing_ you, _I think I prefer to live knowing I’m a monster.”_

Why would he stay with her? Even when _he_ wouldn’t?

_Why?_

No. It wasn’t the same. Michael would want to forget and won’t. Chidi didn’t want to. He had to. He had no choice. Not a real one, at least. And she blocked his options by pairing him up with Simone. But, in a few months, they would be back together and everything would be normal again. If such a thing as ‘normal’ could exist for her.

And if he didn’t leave her for Simone, somehow convinced that _Michael_ was her soulmate.

Where did he get that _bonkers_ idea?

 _Oh, fork._ Had Michael suggested it, in one of his supposedly _secret_ visits? There had to be a reason for him to hide those from her. She kept throwing hints at him and the idiot just played dumb, over and over again. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, expecting him to come clean on his own. He should’ve known he could never fool her.

She knew, deep down, that Michael wouldn’t imply anything. Not willingly, at least. The guy was too oblivious to do that. But it wasn’t like that made things inherently better. Because, _somehow_ , the demon still managed to be in charge of every aspect of her existence. And that wasn’t fair. That wasn’t right.

Whether or not he intended it.

Eleanor braced herself as she walked down the waiting room and stomped through the office, slamming the door shut on her way. She hoped, for a miracle, that he wouldn’t be there, but he was, sitting on that stupid chair. And he had the _audacity_ to smile at her, as if he was innocent, as if he was not to blame for everything that made her so miserable right now.

“Hi! Where have you been all day?”

Determined to ignore him, she directed herself to the spiral staircase and disregarded his greeting. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room, away from him, from _all_ of them. And maybe hit an old car with a baseball bat.

His lips dropped as he turned his whole head to face her. “Hey! What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

_Did he seriously-? No. Wait. Don’t react. You told Tahani you wouldn’t be an idiot with this._

“No.” She went up a couple of steps, expecting him to drop the subject.

“Are you okay? Hey, we promised we would be honest with each other.”

 _Oh, you_ have _to be kidding me._ What a forking hypocrite.

Eleanor concealed a gasp biting her lips and kept climbing the stairs. “Says the demon who used to lie to us for a living. Just leave me alone, man.”

He stared at her, puzzled. “C'mon, don’t you think it’s a little late for hard feelings? If you were going to snap at me for that, I expected a drunk fit the night I gave you your memories back, not a tantrum more than five months later.”

She stopped in her tracks, gaping at him. Was he really responding? For once? 

If he was the one who wanted to play, _fine_ . So it was. _Sorry, Tahani_. But this would only work if he ended up just as angry as she was right now.

“A _tantrum?_ That’s what you think this is… It’s a tantrum from, what? A kid? Is that why you’re constantly all over me, meeting subjects behind my back, checking in on me, as if I _needed_ you?! I’m not a dumb human you need to look after! I never asked you to do _anything_ for me!”

He opened his mouth, baffled, and closed his eyes for a short moment. “What? Eleanor, why don’t you stop this nonsense and tell me what’s going on? You’re no kid. You're an adult, with your fair share of centuries of existence. Which is why this is getting ridiculous. If you have a problem, either spit it out or, even better, sleep it off. I’m not in the mood for a brawl.” His voice dropped in his last words, as he turned back to face the papers on his desk. No way. _No,_ they were not done. Now that they had started, there was only one way to end this and it was not backing down.

She had to keep going.

She freed the question that had been hammering her brain all day long, somehow managing to keep her voice from breaking. “Soulmates aren’t real, are they?”

Michael exhaled, scribbling something. But he wouldn’t go back to work, not until she decided it. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

 _Keep digging, keep twisting the knife, Shellstrop. Somewhere, in there, he remembers how to snap._ “Nice little torture game you came up with.”

At that, he dropped his pen, turning to look at her. She expected to see the muscles on his jaw starting to clench, but he frowned at her, instead. Then, he stood and took a few slow, silent steps until he reached the bottom of the stairs and dedicated a couple of seconds to study her. She felt herself swallow at the intensity of his stare, half concerned, half intrigued.

“This is about Chidi. Something happened. That’s why you’re lashing out at me.” He shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 _How dare you?_

She couldn’t help but laugh, an escape of all sarcasm and no fun. “This is _not_ about Chidi. This is about you.” Step by step, her index finger pointing at his face, she went back down until she reached his exact height, facing him off. “And your need to control everything and everyone around you. Just because you have the immortal abilities of whatever forking planet you come from, it doesn’t mean it’s very _ethical_ for you to use them. Doesn’t make for a very fair friendship, _bud._ ”

_C’mon, Mikey. Loosen up, get mad at your favorite trash bag for a change._

He opened his mouth to answer before covering it with a couple of fingers. He shook his head, walking away from her, and mirrored her empty laugh. “We’re not doing this. I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

She followed him, circling around his body, before standing only a few inches away from him. With her arms crossed, she looked up and smirked. “You can’t say I’m wrong, can you? I know you have this _obsession_ with having control. You can’t live without it. And you’re the boss here. I’m just the _cover_ , you said so yourself.” Her upper lip twitched as she looked at him up and down, examining, probing, testing just how far she should go. Her eyes met his and encountered an unreadable expression. _It's not the time for hiding._ It’s time for _dares._ “C’mon, admit it. This is _your_ neighborhood. And, seems, to me, you can do whatever the fork you want in it.”

The brief silence that followed her words was unbearable. She didn’t understand why he refused to put up a fight. Couldn’t he see she needed this? He always gave her everything she wanted, sometimes before she even realized what that was herself. 

And now, she wanted him angry.

Maybe that could make all this mess a bit easier. Maybe that could make her understand the storm of emotions running through her, the uncertainty that constantly ghosted over them both. Maybe this way, he would leave her alone on his own. 

He sighed, looking way more calmed than she wanted him to, looking around the room before narrowing his eyes at her. “Maybe I can, but I choose not to. A key part in this ‘trying to be good’ process. And, by the way, I’m not your _boss_ . I never was, _Team Leader_.”

“Oh, please! That’s just a name! And let me remind you that it’s all based on your little speech. ‘You’re the only one who can do this’. Bullcrab! If I’m in charge, it’s because you had no other option! You made me think I _had_ to do this, but it was all just another lie! I wish I could go back to that day and think ‘Na, I won’t pass by his office. I won’t go wish him good luck. _He’s not worth it._ ’ That way, I wouldn’t have the burden of forking humanity on my shoulders making me miserable every day!”

His undisturbed demeanor only angered her more. Her voice kept dangerously rising, but he showed no signs of dropping the act. 

“Oh, so you _are_ the one with burdens. Forgive me, Eleanor, I don’t follow. Are you a cover or are you the boss?” He extended a hand in her direction, looking almost confused. “You’re acting as if I’d ever controlled you.”

_It's not working, Shellstrop. Keep pushing._

“You did! And you still do! You design and control everything here. You decide when I get to be happy or angry, when is it okay for me to feel, where should I live and even where should I forking _sit!_ ” Her finger pointed, sharply, at the Big Chair, the one she never asked and never wanted. The one he couldn’t help but give away to her. “Everything seems easier when you have a file telling you all the answers, but guess what, bro? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do!”

He seemed more tired than angry. This wasn’t working, why wasn’t it working? 

“How is this, in any way, about a _chair?_ Why don’t you tell me what’s your problem so we can handle this properly? Want to know about the chair, and the house? I simply _like_ seeing you here. Fine? I- I want you to be at ease, there’s no ulterior motive. I’m not manipulating you, Eleanor. You know you are free here.” He lowered his voice to a mutter, leaning closer, as if to share a secret. “I think you are the one who can do whatever she wants here…” He stepped back. “But I know all too well that you’re not comfortable with that.”

_Who the fork does he think he is?!_

_“When_ have you given me a choice?! A _real_ choice?! Since I met you, I haven’t made a single decision by myself!” She got on his face again, poking his chest with each and all the accusations she owed him. “ _You_ decided how long you would torture me and _who_ would pose as my soulmate! _You_ decided I go back to Earth and forget about _you! You_ made me go to Australia to meet Chidi! And _you_ chose to show me my memories with _him!_ You are _constantly_ meddling! And now, it’s _your_ fault that I have to pretend to be running this place because _you_ couldn’t be honest with me and tell me what was _your forking problem!_ ”

She felt her vision blurry as her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of him. Not again. But this was becoming too much: weeks, months, even _years_ of holding herself back. She was tired of pretending, of wondering what would’ve happened _if_ … and she was finally, _finally_ letting it all out. A single drop fell on her cheek and she felt free to breathe again.

At least he didn’t get close to dry it.

“...You, Michael, made this- this plan with the others so I would move here. _You_ made me the leader! And now, the things you did to _me,_ I’m doing them all to Chidi! I- I’m lying to him, manipulating him. I’m pushing him towards someone else when _I’m_ the one who-!” She cut herself off. She couldn’t tell him that. If the words got out, it would be real. And they could never go back from that. No. She had to keep pushing until he decided to leave her on his own accord. “You’re a liar! But the worst part is that you keep lying to yourself, saying you have no power over us because it makes you feel less like shirt!” She gave him a single nod, defying him. “Since you’re supposed to be all honest, tell me, for real: when have you given _me_ a choice? When have you given me a _chance?”_ Her voice broke in that last word, the one that slipped through her lips unwillingly. “A chance to pick something?”

_...A chance to pick someone?_

No. 

_Don’t think about that, Eleanor. Don’t let your brain go there._

She watched Michael's chest slowly rise and fall and got self-conscious of her own rapid breathing. She looked up at him, knowing fully well that he could —at least— contemplate the trace of her heartbeat on her neck. But she would not avoid his eyes. Not now, not ever. And it didn't matter if he saw her like this, angry and desolated. She couldn't help it. She felt lost, and there was no way her body could hide that from him.

He tilted his head at her, in an almost 'Good Place Architect' posture. "Is this about determinism again? You're losing creativity, Eleanor." He licked his lips and frowned. "I remember multiple occasions when you had the chance to make a choice and you didn't take it. Why are you blaming this on me? If this is about Chidi, let me remind you that _he_ made a decision, one I wanted to stop and, yet, I didn't. Because it was not mine to make. And if this is about you..." Michael cleared his throat, looking around the room. "I think you should ask yourself what's truly upsetting you. Maybe it's Chidi's will to make a decision. Or maybe it's yours."

_No._

No, it wasn't. That wasn't true. She was angry at _him,_ at Michael. 

_Right?_

How could he turn the lens on Chidi? He sacrificed himself for them. Didn't he get it?

Did he? 

_Did she get it?_

And it was not about her. She was always willing to choose.

_Am I?_

She was. She told them to- to try, she did good things. She was better.

_But..._

_What if Michael-?_

_Or what if Chidi-?_

_No, Eleanor, stop that._

_Fork, w- what?_

_No._

Eleanor didn't know what to do but start shaking her head. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was tearing every wall she ever built, shredding to nothing the foundations of her case. He was turning the tables on her before she could even set them. This wasn't fair, she wanted to make _him_ angry!

"You've always hated him! I bet you're happy he erased his memory. It lets you have some sort of power over him. The 'annoying nerd' makes you feel small and you can't deal with that! Deep down, you know those 6000 feet don't mean squat and you don't hold a candle to Chidi!"

Eleanor regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She knew, instantly, that she went too far. If she had blinked one second later, she would've missed it: the wince, the look of utter pain that showed up the moment his mask finally gave away. Her feet drove her backwards until she hit a wall.

No. No, no, no. She wanted him furious, not hurt.

_Fork. I was wrong. I'm not getting better._

She froze, scared. Not of him but of herself. Unlike her, Michael would never hurt his friends again. But maybe she was too damaged to ever stop being selfish. She realized, terrified, that they were going to lose. How could she help the subjects when she couldn't even improve herself? When her stupid mouth let her hurt the one she cared about more than any- _almost_ anyone else in the universe?

But then he smirked, and the voice of that shell of a demon still living inside him appeared. Hoarse and deep, it joined his steps as he moved towards her. There were tears in her eyes again, but she blinked until they went away and simply looked up at him, silently pleading for forgiveness. His expression sent goosebumps down her spine and Eleanor wondered _why_ she started this in the first place.

_Shellstrop, you're a forking coward._

"Maybe you were right, Eleanor. Maybe I don't know you that well. Because I thought you had changed. You know? It's easy to say you trust someone. It's easy for you to call them your ‘best friend’ and tell them that you care about them. Or that you don't want to see them get hurt." He made an excruciating pause and Eleanor feared losing him. No fort, no snow day, no promise, nothing could fix this for her. "Oh, no. The hard part is _acting like it._ And these past few months?"

He let out a single, soft and low chuckle. "Maybe you're the one who's been lying."

"Michael, _please_ wait." She touched his arm to stop him, but he shrugged it off. Once he averted his eyes, she could see the pain on his face again. She knew he was right. She kept hurting him and wasn't sure why. Maybe it was easier than actually dealing with whatever the fork this was. Maybe she was the one who preferred being seen as a kid. But they both knew she wasn't one, and that the truth was more uncomfortable than whatever she had made up tonight.

When he closed the door on his way out of the office, Eleanor allowed herself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, chapter 8 was the calm before the storm. Sorry for that.
> 
> I apologize if Tahani's stuff ended up being kind of weird but I really needed to get some thoughts out of my system.
> 
> Here there's a Cheers reference. Haven't watched the full show but I love Ted so much <3


	10. The Beach

Eleanor gave up on trying to dry herself when she asked him if the constant dripping was part of the torture. The show was fun while it lasted: Michael watched her expression become increasingly frustrated with his bare arms behind his head, as he lay on the sand on top of his jacket. The soft, salty breeze cooled his feet and sent flutters through the open collar of his shirt as he relaxed, finally away from the sight of his colleagues.

She was smart, infuriatingly so. But now that he was in their 'team' _(ugh_ , what a disgusting word), he could recognize the perks that had. She was also a fantastic actress, which made Vicky and the others convinced that no one was more miserable at the hands of Michael than Miss Eleanor 'This-is-the-Bad-Place-and-I-suck-donkey-butts' Shellstrop.

She might have made a great demon, in a different universe.

"I don't get why we had to get out of the water." She turned to look at him. "Buzzkill."

He chuckled. "It might be hard to convince any peeping demon and tell them _that_ was torture. Don't you think?”

"Mhm, I don't know." She sat next to him, facing the sea, after squeezing water off of her shirt, surely half-knowing it wasn't going to become less wet with that. "I _did_ almost drown you. But that's on you. ' _My suit will get wet, blah blah blah, I'm so lame'._ Tall wimp. You could just say I figured it out again and I was pissed. I'll follow your lead. Even drown you again, if you kinda digged that."

_"Wait. I won't melt or anything if I go swimming, right?"_

_"Of course not, Eleanor." What a_ stupid _human. "I think that would sort of give the whole game away", he continued, sarcasm coloring his voice._

_She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow. "Well, c'mon then!"_

_"Oh, no, I won't be swimming."_

_"What? Why not? It's not fun if I do it alone."_

_"But I'm dressed."_

_"And? I'm dressed, too." She came to stand right in front of Michael, scanning him with her arms crossed. "Or you fancy skinny dipping?"_

_He thought of taking a step back, noticing she was too close to him. But he couldn't let Eleanor think that he was walking away from such a simple, fragile creature as a mortal being. No. He had the power here, and he would not let her forget that. So he chuckled, fixing his eyes on hers. "Please keep your clothes on, Eleanor."_

_"That was not an answer."_

_He didn't respond. There was no need to indulge her._

_"Fine. Then you're the coward for fearing a little bit of water."_

_Oh, she was_ bold. _"Excuse me?"_

 _"It's okay, bud, no judgements. I just thought immortal beings and all that crab could handle such a —what's that word you love using?—_ primitive _thing."_

 _Michael reviewed his options. If he said no, that meant letting her win. And if he said yes- well, he got the same result. He needed an alternative, one that reminded her whose neighborhood this really was. He allowed himself a smirk when he found his purpose for this afternoon: he wanted to make Eleanor Shellstrop feel_ scared _. At least once. So, he stepped even closer, slowly undoing his bowtie, and looked down at her, his deep voice barely above a whisper._

_“Do you even know what you're getting into here?"_

_She didn't back down and raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you?"_

What the fork did that mean?

_His perplexed silence must have been longer than he planned because she began to turn around, laughing, and stepped into the water._

_"Suit yourself, bro."_

_Well, that didn't come out the way he expected._

_Damn it. "Fine!" He took off his jacket and shoes, rolling up the bottom of his pants and the sleeves of his shirt. "But just my feet."_

_She sent a cheeky smile in his direction. "Of course!"_

"Remember that if you _do_ 'find out', we are all forked. The whole 'impending doom' debacle of the week, right? Or has your tiny brain already forgotten about that?"

"You think I'd forget the day a nerdy professor broke a thousand year old demon's brain? Na, never." She giggled.

"You were nicer when I was in a crisis."

"Well, yeah. You looked so stupid I felt sorry for you. But now you pulled me out of the water so I'm back to being mean." She took a book out of her bag. "And oh, would you look at that?! What a coincidence! Speaking of existential crisis!"

He glanced at her hands. _Death_ by Todd May.

His head fell on the sand and he closed his eyes. "Please, don't. I've had enough."

"Shut up. If I can't have fun, neither can you."

Pulling out her best ‘second grade teacher’ voice, Eleanor started reading in a slow, cheerful tone, which made dealing with the subject of death sound even more ridiculous than it already was.

“Death threatens our lives through incompletion. Our projects, commitments and relationships will just disappear, without being brought to accomplishment. But this is a problem for us only if those matter. If they did not matter, then their disappearance would not matter either. It also gives life's moments a preciousness and urgency that would go lacking if living went on without end. Death may give a human life shape, but at the cost of wholeness. It may allow for passion, but at the cost of putting-” She cut herself off and sharply closed the book. "Ugh, nevermind. I just bored myself to _death._ "

"You _are_ dead, Eleanor."

“Then this book is wrong about everything. Things don't end when you kick the bucket, I'm still here!"

Michael nodded. "All he does is talk about his wife. It's so boring." He saw Eleanor grabbing her bag to put the book back in and asked her for it. "May I?"

She frowned, surely wondering why the sudden interest, and handed him the book. He sat up, with a focused expression on his face, and pretended to read the first few pages. When he noticed her staring out of the corner of his eye, he closed it, stretched out his arm and threw it to the ocean, making it splash into the water 50 meters ahead of them.

"Oops!" He turned to face her and found her grinning at him. "Sorry, I think I dropped your book."

She looked at him, puzzled, until she let out a snort. She kept laughing and laughing until Michael found himself trying to conceal his own giggles (and failing spectacularly at it).

Eleanor slapped his shoulder, pushing him, and he threw his back on the sand again, still smirking.

"You know, I thought this whole ethics stuff seemed too basic to you but, turns out, you're just as much of a lazy trash bag as I am. Maybe even worse."

He raised his head to look at her. "I'm a superior being who can see in nine dimensions and has abilities that are outside your realm of imagination. Who do you think you are to dare and call me 'lazy'?"

"You know, if you keep bringing up that whole nine dimension bullcrab but never really do anything about it, no one's gonna buy that shirt anymore, dude."

There it was. A shimmer of light, a small opportunity. Maybe he could meet his goal of the day. She had no need to know the whole truth after all, but just enough to maybe —hopefully— fear him. Just a little, at least. So Michael leaned on his side, propped up on one of his elbows and scrutinized her as he spoke, slowly reading bits of her aura all the way from her feet to her face. "You seriously think I'm not using them right now?"

When he reached her eyes, she inhaled a sharp breath of air through her nose. 

_Good job, Mikey._

A step in the right direction.

Never tearing away from his look, she swallowed. "What… are they?"

He allowed himself a low chuckle, always testing her reactions. "I'm not sure you want to know." No fear so far, but they were on the right track. She looked like a girl caught stealing a cookie right before dinner.

"Can you, like, read my mind?"

Michael had, again, three options. He could risk lying to her (which would be stupid, knowing the human at his side), say nothing at all and let her squirm in her doubts, or just tell her the truth. Almost unwillingly, the words slipped out of his mouth.

"I can't."

She exhaled, relieved.

"Why? Are you hiding something?"

"No!"

Michael snorted. "Of course you are. I guess I'll have to live with the mystery, then."

She didn't answer and turned to stare at the waves. Michael realized he liked the feeling of the wind on his hair and his clothes, the smell of salt and even the annoying grains of sand that seemed to make their way into his skin suit.

He liked to sit and… just do nothing. Huh. Terribly human.

He didn't like silence that much, though.

"I'll explain one day, if you want. The dimensions, I mean."

"But then how are you gonna intimidate us, your little toys?"

"You're not my _toys_."

Eleanor looked down at him, smug. "Then what are we?" 

Was she trying to be intimidating? How funny. It was almost adorable, in a gross, pitiful way. But much like she said earlier, the game was not fun if Michael didn't play as well. He leaned closer, sat back up, forcing her to raise her head if she wanted to meet his eyes, and gave her his best demonic smile. He studied her features in search of any sign of fear or uncertainty. Her heartbeat was rising, that was a good sign. He just needed a bit of lime around the neck or some black on the corners of her mouth to consider his job done.

_Nothing._

So he just talked. "Oh, that depends."

"On what?"

"On what _you_ want."

Her lips parted. "Well, I- I don't-" Well, _that was a first._ Did he really leave her speechless? This was almost as good as scaring her. 

She cleared her throat and looked back at the waves. "I don't know, who cares?" Her tone was dismissive and careless, but he heard its underlying trembling. He inched himself away from her, to get a better look at her aura, intrigued at such a reaction. 

She was nervous, of course. He expected as much. But there was something else… a little cloud, over her belly. He couldn’t see well with her legs on the way, but it almost seemed- _Oh, damn it._ He hoped it was a misread on his behalf. There was no way something as disgusting as-

_Wait._

Did she just scratch the bubbles on her arm? 

It had to be a coincidence. She- she shouldn’t _feel_ them. Humans couldn’t feel that! It was impossible... But, somehow, it was the exact same spot she touched. And she simply scraped away, with a few nails, the marks left on her skin. 

Huh.

That was extremely interesting.

Michael made a mental note to keep track of the responses she gave to her own emotions and kept studying her arm.

"Hey." At that, she turned to look at him. "I see _you_ as an ally." He pointed a finger at her, knowing she would realize it was not the group he was talking about. "And let me tell you: with us, _Vicky_ doesn't stand a chance." Her eyes narrowed before she gave him a small smile, topped with a yellow, intrigued light on her forehead. 

After taking a look at the horizon, perceiving the sun starting to set, he stood, fixing his bow tie and brushing the sand off of his clothes. "I should go. I've got work to do."

"Okay. Hey, Michael?"

He rolled down his sleeves. "Yeah?" 

"This was fun. Weirdly. We could do it again."

_Fun?_

He wanted to scare her and she had _fun?_

He felt insulted.

Although, he could admit that he _had_ fun, too. It reminded him of those days when she took him to arcades, to ‘distract him’. And if he was part of a new team now, nothing stopped him from having a good time with them. Well, mostly with her, since she was the only one who didn't flinch at his presence.

Perhaps the fact that she wasn't afraid of him was not entirely bad.

"I don't do study groups, Eleanor. I don't need them." He smirked at her. "But I can do beach days." She snorted as he adjusted his jacket, his Architect façade finally complete again. He snapped his fingers and their clothes finally dried, instantly.

She gasped. "You could do that?! Why didn't you?"

Michael laughed at the human before him. This _was_ the Bad Place after all. "It was more fun this way." After that, he leaned down to whisper one final message in her ear. "Don't forget to look bored and miserable when you get back. The others might not be very glad to find out you had such a great time with me." He straightened, taking a couple of steps back before turning around and leaving. "And I'm not talking about the demons!"

* * *

He saw her from the corner of his eye as she climbed down the rocks and stepped into the sand. He didn’t turn to look at her, though. Neither did he when her legs appeared in his field of vision, nor when she sat at his side with her knees hugged to her chest.

For a while, they just stayed there, looking at the waves crash against the shore. 

Over the past couple of years, he began to accept and appreciate the beauty that lay in silence. He even found himself looking for it on occasions, enjoying the way in which it allowed him to think about his existence. And now, a part of him longed for this silence to go on forever, because he didn't know if he was yet ready to hear Eleanor speak.

Not after what happened last night.

She kept pushing his buttons until she hit the one she _knew_ would hurt him. Michael spent the night wondering what he might have said or done to anger her so much, but nothing occurred to him. Even being considerably new at it, he knew enough about friendship to recognize he had been good to Eleanor these months. Yeah, he made mistakes, but he was working on them.

Then why, _why_ was she provoking him? He tried so hard to keep himself in line, to take it all, assuming she was just using him as a punching bag. He gave her the benefit of the doubt.

_Just relax, she's stressed._

_Don't react, she's scared._

_Have patience, she'll tell you what's wrong._

Until he couldn't.

So he did not turn to look at her.

"I- I'm a piece of shirt." Her voice was broken enough for him to realize she had been crying. Maybe she still was. "I don't know how to begin to say I'm sorry. I don't even know why I did that… Why I _keep_ doing that. Damn it, why is it that, every time I have something _good,_ something special, I end up forking it all up? I'm totally the worst possible person to run this hellhole. I mean, I can't even…"

She sniffed, so she was still crying, apparently.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I'm really sorry for screwing things up with you, again."

She wasn't the worst possible person, that much he knew. But maybe the Big Chair wasn't big enough for two. Maybe this _thing_ they were doing, that brought them closer than ever, but also drifted them terribly apart, was the problem. They had always worked alone, before meeting each other. And no one ever said changing that would be easy.

He swallowed.

"Is this what it felt like?" 

She turned to her side and exhaled, probably glad that he wasn't just going to sit there in silence. "What?"

But he still didn't look at her. "What I did… What I _used_ to do. I knew _exactly_ what to say to hurt the four of you. I knew you enough to be able to do that." He briefly glanced down, before going back to watch the waves. "I guess now you do, too."

It lasted a second and he couldn't stop playing it, over and over, in his mind. He tried to imagine taking hit after hit for hundreds of years. Or for thousands. No wonder Tahani acted so strangely around him until recently. The therapy was helping both of them, for sure. And now, he had something new to discuss with Janet next week. 

_She knows you will never be enough._

That promised to be quite a _fun_ session.

"... You've never talked to me like that. Yeah, you've yelled at me, but this was different. I'd never had a fight like that before, not with someone I actually care about."

"Michael, I didn't mean what I said. You know that, right?"

"Oh, but it's true. It was all true." Shaking his index finger had less sense when you weren't looking at the person talking to you. "Except… I don't hate Chidi. I never have. I admire him. Chidi is strong in all my weak spots. It took me a while to admit that, but- Yeah. With you, it was different. You beat me at my own game, it was a chase-off. He taught me the game, the _whole_ game, was wrong. And that's a tough pill to swallow."

"Man, I think you got this super idealized version of Chidi stuck in your head. And maybe I'm not one to talk, but that's not healthy. The guy's not perfect, _I_ know that. He gets _so_ caught up in these rules and stuff that he forgets he's dealing with real people, people he loves. And ends up hurting them… hurting _me._ " She paused. "And then I go and I hurt you. Just because of that, you're already _better_ than the two of us."

A hand touched his knee and he had to fight hard not to shrug it off.

Janet kept telling him the same thing. They had recently started working on that. _Idealizing_. She insisted it was some sort of ‘projection’, whatever the fork that meant. Nice to have your very best friend fueling that fire.

“You can’t think I seriously believe what I said.” She scooted closer, facing him. “ _How could I?_ When I can’t even be sure if what he did was actually the best for us? When- when you’re telling me you _wouldn’t_ do it? That you would _stay with_ _me?”_ He heard the way her voice was breaking and hid his face between his knees. “Just like you’ve always stayed with me. Because _that’s_ who you are, Michael. You stand by everyone you care about, no matter what. While I’m… Well, I can’t say I do the same. I’m a selfish ash. But _you?_ You’re willing to risk everything. I _know_ that.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as she ran a single finger down his arm. “I was there when you did it.” She gave him a shaky sigh. "Michael, please look at me." After a couple of seconds, he stopped studying the grains of sand below him and finally raised his head. "Oh, damn it."

He thought she wouldn't notice, but she did. Eleanor leaned in to shed from his face a wetness he thought was not even there anymore. Not since last night, when he sat in this exact same spot to ask himself how did this happen, what did he do and why, mostly _why_ did this hurt him so much. He thought everything was going great between them, but maybe it had been too good to last. There were things happening in his essence he couldn't name or describe. But he didn't like them. They were tough and hard to experience, they dragged him down through that thick, sad rain that fell down his shoulders. 

And, apparently, down his face, too.

“How could I do this to you?” Her hands were on his jaw and she was so, _so_ close he wondered if she also thought about kissing the traces his tears left on his cheekbones, as he sometimes wanted when she cried in front of him. But she pulled back a little and hugged him, instead, making the muscles on his back tense and freeze.

"Eleanor, I need- I need some time."

She let him go immediately.

"Yeah, sorry. Sorry." 

He saw her rub her temples and close her eyes. Michael knew she felt frustrated, but so did he. And it was not only about this fight. He was tired of all of it, of this whole insane affair, of hearing her say something only to go and do a different thing afterwards. Of being there for her when she needed it and turning out to be little more than the ears and the shoulders she yelled at to refract her own emotions.

He didn’t like getting angry at her. He never did. He had _so much_ patience. Each time she snapped at him, he kept reminding himself she was just using him as a punching bag. She was under a lot of stress, after all, and she had lost a lot by now. He knew it wasn’t him the one who hurt her, so he just listened and took it, each time. It wasn’t personal, was it?

But last night, he realized how much he _hated_ being that punching bag. And that it was more than enough to finally get mad at her.

 _Would Janet say she was projecting, too?_

Either way, he was drained by now. What was the point of promises if they weren’t going to keep them? What was the point of friendship if they were just going to-?

_You're not supposed to hurt your best friend, right?_

He felt more and more like shirt with every word each of them pronounced, but he also knew they needed this. They _had_ to talk, get it all out there and truly, really be honest with one another. What happened the previous night was proof that there were matters between he thought they had resolved, only for them to resurface with such _resentment_ in her voice it filled Michael with guilt.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t resent some things, as well.

"But… we can keep talking, if you want to. I think it might be good for us."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the sea. "Okay." After a moment of silence, she spoke. "I guess you spent the night here. I waited for you a little, but part of me kinda knew you would come here. I like to think this place is where our friendship started." She gave him a shy smile. "Those trips to the beach, laughing at all the other demons, with me teaching you human stuff."

Michael smiled back, for only a second, remembering the days when he discovered many new and exciting things that opened up a whole new realm of possibilities to his existence. He was such a jerk at first. It embarrassed him, sometimes, how fast she was able to see through that.

_You made me change._

"Yeah, it is.” He ran a hand through his forehead. “That's not why I'm here, though." It was, for the most part, but he just didn't want to tell her that. "I was actually thinking about that book, the one you were reading the first time I brought you here. The one about death... I didn't get it back then, I hated it, because nothing really mattered to me other than myself.” He paused, swallowing. “And now- things are different now. The thing is... living with _meaning_ is really forking hard. And it's very exhausting. That guy said things only matter when you're mortal, right? But I'll always be stuck here, and things still matter to me. And I can't help fearing that this _pain_ I've been feeling the past few years is never gonna go away. So I don't know if meaning is actually a good thing. Everything was so much easier before."

Eleanor's hand hovered over his, barely grazing it before she drew it back. "Things were easier for me, too, when I didn't give a crab about anyone else. But I wasn't happy. I'm not saying I'm always happy now, but the good moments make me realize it's worth it. Look, I’m stuck here, too. And you matter to me, you really, _really_ do, even knowing I have eternity left…” She let out something similar to a broken laugh. “You’re pretty unforgettable yourself, bud.”

“Did something bother you the other night? Was it something I said? You just vanished and then-”

_And then you did all of this._

She shook her head, looking at him. “No _._ The other night was-” She bit her lower lip, still crying, as her hand reached out to touch his face. “It was _perfect_ .” He almost moved away from her, but she ended up pulling back on her own, right before she got to his skin. “I’m just having a hard time dealing with some stuff. Hard and confusing stuff, and I took it out on you, _again._ ” She moved her legs to face the sea once more, abruptly shrinking, her body language now closed and small. Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “I don’t wanna do that anymore. You deserve better. But you were right, you know? I was angry at myself. I still am.”

"But the things you said last night. Some of them _do_ bother you."

She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth, before she waved her palm in a dismissive manner. "A couple. No big deal."

He cocked his head at her, serious. "Eleanor…"

_Honesty and trust. Don't forget that._

She fixed her eyes on his for a moment, drumming her fingers on her forearm, and looked down. "Why are you seeing Chidi behind my back?"

_Oh, fork._

He rubbed his forehead and exhaled, thinking about the way he should express it. He didn't want to hurt her. It didn't matter if she hurt him, being as angry as he was didn't mean he wanted to see Eleanor in pain. 

Even now, it was the last thing he wanted.

Lying was definitely out of the table. He couldn't even hide this from her as well as he thought he did. And he wouldn't keep secrets from her, ever again. Now he knew.

"Listen, I-"

"Be honest. Remember?"

_Of course I do._

"I know you like it when he visits you. I went to his apartment at the beginning of the year, talked to him about you, and he came to the office to see you after that. And I saw how happy that made you _._ So I kept doing it, just in case. I may have an issue with-" He paused to clear his throat, "control, after all."

Michael saw her run one of her hands through her face and felt a constriction inside his chest.

“Fork. I can’t believe I thought- For a moment, I thought he-” She looked around her and let out a low sob. “Of course he wouldn’t… _Damn it._ Stop that, okay? I’m not saying you shouldn't visit him anymore, he’s smart, he’ll know something’s wrong. Just stop pushing, Michael. Please, just stop pushing.”

He refrained himself from touching her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t really think _I_ am the reason he keeps coming, I seriously beli-”

“I don’t wanna talk about this! I just wanted to know.”

“Okay.”

He wanted to know what sent her down a determinist spiral once again, what was she trying to give up on or what was she so afraid to face this time. But if she wasn't ready to share it, then maybe it wasn’t his place to ask.

_Just stop pushing, Michael._

Better let her choose what to say. “What else?”

“The chair thing doesn’t really bother me. I’m just curious. There’s gotta be something more to it.”

He shrugged. “Not really. Gives you confidence. You sit up straight and it seems like nothing can beat you. You look powerful when you sit there. You look good.” The words were probably too warm for the occasion and didn’t suit the tone of his voice, but he had promised to tell her the truth. Then, his curiosity beat him. Maybe he could seize the honesty strike a little bit. “What’s with the matching outfits?”

“Agh, it’s super lame. Really lame.” She shook her head a couple of times, dismissive.

“I want to know.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “You know I was never part of any team, before meeting all of you. I feel like my life was this unending series of fights I had to face on my own. And I’m not alone anymore. And I _like_ not being alone. I thought of the color thingy because, at first, everything between us was about power: there was a winner and a loser, we had this _race_ or a kind of forked up competition. Not only during the reboots, even after we teamed up. But now, it's the six of us —and the _two_ of us— against everyone else. Now we’re a power-duo.” She moved her head a little. “That’s why I don’t get the chair thing, not when we’re alone. I don’t want to be your _boss_ , Michael _._ I told you: we do this together or we don’t do it at all. I don’t _want_ to do this without you. You keep saying I could. Well, I don’t care if I can. I really don’t want to.” 

She inched herself closer to him again, right by his side, but he kept his eyes on the waves and shrugged. “You’ve always liked to lead.”

“Not like this.” She cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. “Michael, I wanna apologize for all the crab I’ve said to you these past months. I’ve been a really bad friend, I can admit that.” Her voice then lowered and lowered to a progressively softer mutter. “Turns out _I’m_ the one who doesn’t know shirt about...” When her words drifted off to silence, she began to run a finger though the sand, drawing little nothings on the grains. “I hope, one day, you can forgive me. But I know I crossed a line. Many lines, actually. So I know I can't expect much." Her tone grew more desperate. "But I _swear_ I don't want to see you in pain, ever again. And I hate knowing how crabby it is to be selfish and, _somehow_ , not knowing how to stop. Because I seriously _don’t_ _know_ how to stop.”

Michael sighed. “Maybe you could use a couple of sessions with Janet, as well.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m not really a _therapy_ kinda gal.”

“That’s what people who need therapy always say.”

She gave a bitter snort to the air. “You know, I sometimes _really_ hate how you know everything about me.”

Michael massaged the back of his neck, feeling incredibly tired. “I don't. Know everything, I mean. Not really. I know everything that happened in your life, which _should_ allow me to predict your actions or understand the reasons _why_ you do the things you do. But it's not that easy. Not with you, Eleanor. I generally think that's fascinating. But sometimes-” He paused, shaking his head. “Sometimes it's just _exhausting._ ”

His palm raised to the air, pensive. “...I have _no way_ of knowing what you want or what you're thinking unless you tell me. I've told you, I can't read your mind. Not after you die, at least. And trying to guess or keep up with you, trying to _understand_ you, is becoming too hard for me.”

“So, what? You want me out?” He tried to ignore the way her voice broke more and more with each word she said. His eyes closed, avoiding the bits of her aura that reached his field of vision.

_Please, no more sadness._

_No more pain._

_And more than anything, please, don't be_ afraid.

“No. Of course I don't. I just want you to stop this. All of this.”

* * *

It took time to reach some resemblance of normalcy. Eleanor didn’t offer any grand gestures in this opportunity. She might have been an ashole, but she was still smart. And most of all, she knew Michael. So she knew he didn't want any. He wanted her to stop. And she wanted the same thing.

_“This isn’t an apology. It’s a bribe.”_

Chidi was right, as usual.

That had not been her intention, of course. But it was certainly easier to just _do_ stuff than pour her heart out to people. And she genuinely enjoyed the dorky little smile Michael had whenever he would experience something new. She knew the things he liked, and being human gave her a particular, advantageous perspective in that field. But this wasn’t about gifts.

 _“Nothing_ _scares you more than vulnerability.”_

It truly scared the crab out of her knowing that was exactly what he was expecting, that vulnerability was exactly what it would take to actually fix things, and not just bury them beneath nice memories of some strange kind of truce. Eleanor thought patching things up was about making him happy. And she felt kind of lost when she realized that wasn’t precisely true. 

Their talk at the beach was a step in the right direction. 

But it was merely the first.

When they were finally okay again, she would think of something nice and special for him. For no particular reason, just to do it. To make him happy for the sake of happiness, and not to get him to forgive her for acting like a little bench. She wanted, really wanted to improve. She just needed to keep trying.

But for now, she knew she had to give him the space and time he had asked her. So she just practiced patience, instead. 

Eleanor was relieved when she realized he didn’t want her out of the house and that he wasn’t going to leave, either. There was no promise involving that place, but it had become their home. So she handed him breakfast every morning, finding him already on the other side of the desk, and gave him a smile as she sat on the Big Chair. But she never made conversation after wishing him a good morning, and always waited until he spoke first. And each day, she would ask him if he wanted to have lunch with her, half-knowing already he would say no. 

They pretended everything was fine when any subject was present, but their friends knew things were not actually okay between them. The weekly meetings had Michael on whatever spot was farther away from Eleanor’s in Mindy’s living room, and their plans for dinner abruptly disappeared. They all knew what was happening and tried their best to ease the tension in the air, constantly reassuring her that it was only a matter of time. She desperately hoped they were right.

And as soon as one of the other four showed up, she could witness the way Michael’s entire posture changed. His voice, smile and movements were those of the Architect she had met ages ago, with the difference that this one was not trying to cause anyone pain, but only to hide his own.

It was a good thing both were the best actors around.

What she missed the most were the game nights and movie marathons. Eleanor hated dining alone and going straight to bed, knowing that ―no matter how long she waited for him― he wouldn’t go upstairs until she closed the door of her room. Her sleeping schedule became as awful as it had been that very first week of the experiment, right before moving in here. Her mind never rested and her body felt endlessly uncomfortable. She tossed and turned all night long, and the few dreams she managed to have only made her feel worse in the mornings.

To think she had started this mess wanting to piss him off and, now that she succeeded, she wanted nothing more than to go back in time and undo it all. She wondered what kind of Jeremy Bearimy crazy witchcraft could let her fix this, or give her a second chance to deal with her stupid feelings in a way that didn’t hurt him. 

After a while, she began to push a bit harder, asking him, honestly, how he was doing or telling him about her day. His responses were short and quite dry, but she wanted him to know she would always be there. 

_“I’m right here.”_

She never mentioned Chidi, not even when there were breakthroughs in the experiment. She left that for the meetings and focused solely on the two of them. 

Chidi kept visiting her, but she couldn’t help feeling a little different every time she looked at him. Michael’s words were always rumbling around her ears and she wondered, over and over again, how much of this new ‘bond’ they had developed was owed to the strings he had moved. She shuddered, feeling almost exposed, at the thought of those two men discussing _her._ For some reason, it was different than knowing Chidi could talk about her with Jason, or suspecting she was a current topic on Michael’s sessions with Janet.

It felt like two contrasting worlds colliding together, filling a room with the ghost of her presence by calling her name. A little voice in the back of her head wanted to know which one of them used to smile more when thinking about her. But now she had lost them both, and she knew for sure which one smiled less.

She felt sad. Incredibly sad. It was almost an understatement to say so, to choose such a simple word for whatever the fork was happening inside her. But it was almost as she had no room for a longer, more powerful term. And not knowing for sure what caused her more pain ―for _whom_ she felt more pain― only made matters worse.

At some point, she decided to ask Janet if she could also have… _therapy._ She hated it, she really did, and no much progress had been made since she started. Eleanor knew it was because she had trouble opening up, but it was another step in the right direction. She kinda wished they could find different shrinks if they ever got to the Good Place, because it was definitely weird to share her deepest thoughts with her friend, more so knowing Michael and Tahani did the same thing. But the not-woman kept reminding her that she already knew what was going through her mind, and that she couldn’t talk about it with anyone else. The ‘exercises’, she insisted, were so Eleanor could _hear herself think._

It took her a while to recognize that was not as crazy as it sounded.

She didn’t tell Michael about it. She didn’t expect a prize for trying to become a better version of herself. It was just what she had to do, and what he deserved. But she had the feeling someone else filled him in because, one time, after coming back from one of her first sessions, she found him at the house and caught the little smile he gave her when she wished him a good night.

Eleanor was beaming and didn’t hide it. 

After some time, she started touching him again. A squeeze on the arm, a hand on his back. Always probing and never longer than a single second. Until Brent asked him to join his poker group and he splattered himself on the couch when he got home, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. She hesitated, a lot, before stepping closer from behind him and placing one hand on the back of his neck. She almost drew it back when his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, but then he exhaled, softly, and she briefly pressed against his skin. It was only a moment, and then her feet continued their way down to the office.

For some reason she didn’t understand, this time she was glad he couldn’t see the way she was smiling.

One night, he got caught up watching the _Harry Potter_ saga and didn’t realize the sun had come up until she went down in her pajamas and found him still in front of the TV. 

“Oh, shirt!” Hearing him swear was always funny, and more so when he was running up to his room like a slept in teenager who was late for school. 

He was soon back down, his shirt still partially unbuttoned. “Hey. What are you wearing today?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to conceal a smile, but her eyes surely looked bright and cheerful.

“Green?” He told her once that was the ‘color of hope’, whatever the fork that meant.

It still fit the situation.

She could swear she heard him snort when he turned around and went back to his room.

He would obviously get it.

And one day, as they were walking through the town square in silence, the sound of his voice, soft and kind, made her turn to look at him. He was looking ahead and didn’t meet her eyes, but she didn’t mind that. “Eleanor?”

She realized she missed the sound of her own name. “Yes, buddy?”

“Would you like to go to the beach? And watch the sunset with me?”

She felt her chest fill with happiness. Even living with him and being constantly at his side, his presence had become some sort of hologram. He was _there_ but not really. He didn’t talk or just _hung out_ around her. Not anymore. 

“I would love that.”

The walk there was silent. Tahani was hosting a dinner party for the subjects, so they knew they could take the night off and not think about them. Swinging a picnic basket in her hand, Eleanor tried to control her own steps as to not sprint her way through the neighborhood. When they settled on top of a blanket, on that exact same spot they always found themselves going back to, she tried to rest her cheek on his shoulder and he let her do it. After a while, his own head fell on hers and she felt herself sigh, at last relaxing.

In a sort of unspoken agreement, both knew they weren’t going back to the house that night. This was about putting it all behind them. And if they stayed to watch the sunrise, maybe they could also get a new beginning.

So they just talked, ate and drank for hours and hours, making up for their lost time. Sometimes, she made him laugh and other times, they shared something close to crying, but no tears fell from their eyes that night. 

She broke a moment of silence after swallowing. “Can I make you a promise?”

“Sure.”

“I won’t _ever_ hurt you again.”

His elbow gently nudged her side. “We have a hard time keeping simpler promises than that one. Remember we still have forever to put up with each other.”

“I know. I still wanna do it. That’s exactly _why_ I wanna do it.”

She wouldn’t risk this. Not again.

“Okay.”

The stars became fuzzier to her sight as the night progressed and her eyelids turned heavy. She didn’t want to fall asleep, but her body felt finally at peace and that wasn’t easy to fight. When she felt herself drifting off, she managed to make out a wave of his hand as he stopped all wind from blowing around them.

Breathing in something about him she couldn’t really describe, she smiled.

_Damn it, Michael. I missed you so forking much._

* * *

She felt fingers leaving her hair as her eyes began to flutter open.

_No, don’t stop that. I liked that._

Waking up, she found her head resting on Michael’s chest. A part of her didn’t want to let him go, but she knew it was better not to push too hard, so she sat up, rubbing her eyes, and held his jacket tighter around her shoulders, wondering to herself when did he place it over her sleeping body.

She took a look at the horizon and saw the sky barely starting to light up.

“Sorry I got all leech-y there.” She paused, almost giggling. She knew her tone didn’t portray an actual apology, and it wasn’t like she regretted it, either. “Did you just stay there?”

He shrugged, giving her a small smile. “I had time to think. I feel like I needed it.”

She knew he wasn’t simply talking about last night.

Michael cleared his throat and stared at the waves, sitting up as well. “We’re officially in the second half of the year.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “We finished our first six months last night.”

_Was that why he chose to do this now?_

Eleanor took a deep breath, the significance of the experiment weighing on her, as she felt it become her number one priority again.

Six more months to define the fate of humanity.

Luckily she had the nicest demon in the universe by her side. She moved a little closer to him. “I don’t really know if that’s a lot of time or if it’s nothing. But I _do_ know I don’t wanna spend these months without you, Michael. So, maybe, if you want to, we could…”

She wasn’t sure what to ask him and didn’t really know what to say. There were too many thoughts circling her brain and trying to place them in a single sentence seemed impossible. So she just stretched out an arm and slid her fingers between his.

He squeezed her hand, smiling at her. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.” He bumped his shoulder on hers. “I missed us, you know? So, we can be friends again. _Best friends_ , if you prefer a more ceremonial label.”

_Oh._

_That was… great, right?_

Eleanor smiled back at him and dismissed the lump that had formed on her throat. She was probably just nervous about the experiment.

“I missed you too, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song that joined the writing process of this chapter (and many other parts of the story): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoCG-WNsZio.
> 
> Updates might become a bit more spaced out now because I have to begin working on my finals, but I was really excited about this chapter. I had a lot of fun working with the parallels between old and new Hellstrop. I hope you liked it!


	11. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rose, who wanted to see *something* pictured in this chapter (more info in the End Notes).

_“Babe-”_

_“...No. I’m not okay. But that’s not what matters right now. Can you look after the subjects for- I don’t even know how long. Basically, until at least one of us is back. Remember I said I wouldn’t do anything impulsive about… you-know-what? Well, I did something impulsive. And very, very stupid. And I really need to go find Michael.”_

* * *

_“We just stayed there, you know? All night long, just talking. I missed him_ so _forking much. He told me he missed me... And that morning he said we could go back to being friends. So I’m very,_ very _happy with the way things turned out! Really, very, super happy!”_

 _“...Of course it’s what I wanted to hear! It’s_ exactly _what I wanted to hear! What else could I possibly want, Tahani?”_

* * *

_"Chidi is the only person I love. You know how much he means to me. You know how deeply in love I am with him. Things between me and Michael are one hundred percent… nothing. There's nothing there. We're just friends. Really, really good friends. I'm fine. You don't have to worry about any of this. I don't ‘like’ Michael, this isn't even a little, meaningless crush. We're not in school. I don't even find him attractive.”_

* * *

Well, that last part was probably a lie. But she wouldn’t admit anything that could risk Tahani’s mind getting fuller and fuller of such ridiculous ideas.

She kept saying her ‘behavior’ would just ‘give him hope’.

Hope of _what_? 

_He_ said he wanted them to be friends. That definitely meant he did not want anything mo- uh, _different_ than that.

What she didn’t tell Tahani was that knowing he didn’t appear to have _that_ kind of feelings for her filled her with even more guilt than she felt before.

_Did I seriously risk my friendship with Michael for this?_

_Did I almost lose him for_ no real _reason?_

At least, it worked as a wake-up call for her, if one wanted to see a bright side in this forking shirthole of a mess she made. Thank Upper Management he finally got angry or she might have never noticed what she was doing, too busy drowning in her own sorrow. She just wished hurting _him_ had not been the slap in the face she needed to get her shirt together.

She still winced each time his face, _that_ face he made when she finally broke him, appeared in her memories. But Michael, being his adorable, forgiving, so-scared-of-doing-bad-he-was-almost-too-good self, just went back to being… _normal_ after their night at the beach. Sometimes, it seemed as if things between them were even _better_ than before.

But was that really the reason? Was he simply being ‘too nice’ to her?

It didn’t seem like he wanted to pretend nothing happened.

The first few weeks, when the two of them were at the house or the office and she remembered that hurt expression, she would drop whatever she was doing to walk the two steps between them and just give him a hug. Sometimes she told him she was sorry. Other times, she just thought about it. And he always laughed, squeezed with his own hand the one that was holding that tall-ash body of his and reassured her.

“We’re okay, Eleanor. Don’t worry, we’re okay.”

After a while, she believed him. 

Knowing she couldn’t take back the words she said was devastating. And fire squids had quite the memory. Michael, being Michael, would forget she was the one who pronounced them and just hold on to their meaning. One that was, in now way, true, but it was too late to convince him of that now.

Why, _why_ did she say that? Of all the things she could’ve said…

Why would he forgive her? 

Why did his smile seem almost brighter lately? Had he noticed she was trying to change for him? That she was trying to improve and be the friend he deserved?

Was it _actually_ working? Was she finally getting better?

Maybe part of it was the buttload of honesty they finally freed those days. It stung like a motherforker, but at least it was all finally out there.

However, according to Tahani, now she was ‘constantly talking about Michael’ and ‘sharing fond glances with Michael’ and all that bullcrab. _Was it a crime to miss him?_ She got him back and she was happy about it.

That was all there was to it. Nothing more. _Nada!_

Her intentions with him were strictly platonic. One hundred and four percent platonic: in two words, perfectly platonic.

* * *

She wasn’t expecting to start her day screaming. “Michael! Get over here _right now_!”

He sprinted down from his room three steps at a time, holding a stop sign from his human objects collection, apparently as some kind of weapon. He almost tripped on the only, still untied, shoe he was wearing, and looked around the place in panic.

“What’s wrong? Is there a demon in the house?”

“Only one and it's you, _dingus_ ! What the fork did you do to our kitchen?!” She extended a palm at him. “Let me rephrase: _where_ the fork is half our kitchen? I almost fell down that terrifying spiral!”

The oven and the sink were gone, as well as a good part of the counter. In their place, a strange and quite large swirl slowly turned on itself as it drove the kitchen into… well, somewhere _else_ , she assumed. Black and wide, deep and oddly magnetic, it seemed to shimmer with purple and orange rays. It might have appeared beautiful if it wasn't so forking scary.

Michael calmly tossed the sign on the couch even though it was a considerable distance away and Eleanor's eyes widened. Sometimes she forgot just how strong he was.

_Wow. How would he-?_

_No._

_Shellstrop, don't you dare._

"Oh, that! Yeah, sorry. I left you a note on the Magna Doodle." 

She took a deep, frustrated breath, turning around to follow him with her eyes as he walked through the kitchen. Walking straight past the- the _whatever that was_ , he took a small board from the fridge and motioned for her to stand closer.

Eleanor took a couple of slow steps towards him, not daring to cross the swirl. "I didn't even _know_ we had one of those."

He gave her an amused grin. "That's because I put it up there last night. It's an exact replica of the one Chandler and Joey have in their apartment. Oh, this is so fun! We can write notes to each other about totally trivial matters or make awfully ugly scribbles!" 

He handed her the board and she had to conceal a smile.

_Giant, dorky fanboy._

Reading the message out loud, she snorted. "Sorry, I accidentally created a black hole. DW, it's harmless now. Talk tomorrow. PS: I really like this fake pen." Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. "Harmless ‘black hole’? I'm gonna need you to be a bit more specific here, bud."

Michael extended a hand out and she took it. “I stabilized it and placed an invisible net on it to keep things —or us— from falling down there.” He pulled on her fingers softly to make her stand on top of it. “I need Janet to make it go away, but nothing happens if you walk on it. See? It only feels a bit weird, but you’re not in danger.”

Eleanor felt the floor vibrate beneath her and a light suction on her bare feet. She looked down and realized the hole looked even more beautiful from that position. “Are those… stars?”

“Not exactly. More like- portals, in a way. Think of it as our own little IHOP. I can call Janet now and fix it. I don’t like to bother her at night because it’s her time alone with Jason, so I just thought I could leave it there for a while, with a temporary patch. But it’s not like I would risk having something so dangerous loose around in our place, don't worry... I would miss you too much if you were to fall into a different realm of reality.”

She looked up at that and smiled at him. “C’mon, you know I’d totally get around to ruling whatever unknown world I end up in.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she dropped it and sat down, crossed legged, feeling her stomach flutter with vertigo at the sight below them. “I’m kinda glad you didn’t fix it yet. This way, I got to see it. And it’s-” The shake of her head would probably let him know she was at a lack of words.

He moved to place the Magna Doodle back on the fridge and she stood, following him as he walked around the kitchen. “Quite a nice view, right?”

“Well, yeah, but _how_ did you manage to do that?!” Her shoulders fell and she tilted her head at him. “Were you trying to cook something again?”

Michael giggled lightly before nodding. “I wanted to make salted caramel. But we were out of sugar, so I thought caramel flavored antimatter would do. And we didn’t have salt, either, so I just went with baking soda. In hindsight, not the brightest ideas I’ve had.”

“No shirt, man... I’ve told you, don’t use antimatter on anything that isn’t immortal. And white powders can’t just be switched. My neighbor’s boyfriend with the weird garage I later realized was a lab taught me that. And, by the way, _no one_ uses baking soda anymore! At all! We just buy premade cookie dough and let that stuff go stale in our pantries after we’re done with all the volcano science projects from middle school-” Her eyes closed briefly, regretting her own words. “And why, _why_ did I just mention a _volcano_ science project in front of _you_ , of all beings? I’m digging my own grave here!”

He stayed silent for a moment. “You _do_ want us to build a volcano, don’t you?”

She clicked her tongue, crossing her arms, and gave in. “Yeah, I kinda do.” A finger pointed at his face. “But only if it’s magical.”

“Deal.”

Walking a couple of steps towards him, she sat down on the stool next to where he was standing. “Hey, I know learning these things is important to you, but try not opening a gaping hole in our house next time. When you’ve lived alone since the age of fourteen, you learn a thing or two about cooking. I don’t _enjoy_ it, but I can help you out if you want to. Because, you’re good at some human stuff but, when it comes to this topic, sometimes I wonder if you’re actually Jason in a Michael suit.”

She suddenly stilled, her smile faltering. Not a light topic.

But he leaned in to mutter near her ear, chuckling. “It’s been months. You can make jokes about that, Eleanor.”

She met his eyes and smiled, dismissing the goosebumps that ran down her neck.

_You’re just cold, Shellstrop._

_Or maybe hot? I don’t know. Just relax._

She cleared her throat, looking for a way to change the subject. “So, you can’t really cook in a house with no sugar and no salt. Wanna make a list of things you need and we give it to Janet so she can sort us out?”

He rested an elbow on the breakfast bar, facing her, before he dropped his cheek on his hand. His eyes did that _thing_ they did when he wanted to ask her something and Eleanor almost rolled her own in anticipation.

“What?”

“We haven’t been on a shopping trip for a while now. We could do that before the town meeting and I cook dinner for the group tonight. You can ‘supervise’ me if you fear I’ll suck the house into nothingness, ‘Architect’.”

She sighed. “Fine. But only if you carry me around in the shopping cart. I don’t feel like walking.”

* * *

“I find it strange… That you don’t hate these things.”

Eleanor rested her back against the rear of the cart, propping her legs up on its front, as Michael carried her through a simulated supermarket. “I _do_ hate them. That's why I like riding them. It’s a power thing. Like ‘suck it, cart. You thought you could beat me? Cuz I’m still here, baby.’ And when I died, I even managed to stop my assigned demon from torturing me.” She raised a finger to poke his chin. “So I can’t say I lost my battle with these benches.”

“Technically, I also _saved_ you from dying that way.”

“See? We totally own them.” She straightened and pointed at one of the lower shelves. "Oh! Grab us a bottle of vodka!"

"We already have Margarita Mix and tequila for you, wine for me and Tahani, brand new magnets for Janet she won't actually use in case someone calls on her, and something that's way too neon to be legal for Jason. Don't you think it's enough booze for one night?"

"Not really. We have to celebrate that awesome, super ethical ski trip. What we _do_ have more than enough of is food, man. Seriously." Her hand began to point all the things already around her. "I'm literally sitting on twenty bags of flour right now. There's _way_ too much salt and not enough eggs. We have all kinds of vegetables, and I think a few of these are not actually from Earth. I hope you eat fruit because I _definitely_ don't. And don't get me started on the amount of candy we got. I barely fit here by now!"

Michael snapped his fingers, doubling the area of the cart and Eleanor sighed, splattering herself among the groceries. 

“That's better... So, whatcha thinking of making for us, buddy?”

“Remember when we did those dinners with your favorite or most significant meals in my original neighborhood? I thought I could make the real version of that.”

“So no hunger strike for me this time?” She snorted. “What a deck move. No wonder I figured it out the third time you did that.”

 _“There’s no way_ anyone _has forking_ nothing _as their favorite food. We’re in the Bad Place, aren’t we?”_

He laughed at that, letting go of the cart to grab a machine of some kind. It had wheels on its bottom and a large, circular bowl on top. Its pink and light blue colors made it seem like chewed up gum and she could only confusingly stare at the thing.

“Move to one side so I can put this in.”

“What the fork is that?!”

“To make cotton candy, of course! Don’t you remember any trips to the Arizona State Fair?”

She extended her arms as far as she could, trying to keep him from taking it home. “You’re _not_ putting that gigantic thing in our kitchen, Michael!”

“Why not? I gave you a never ending shrimp dispenser!”

“It’s hidden behind a wall! That looks like the crib for the forking Care Bears! Just ask the cabinet for cotton candy whenever you want it!”

“No! I want to learn how to make it! It’s pure sugar that looks and tastes like clouds. That’s incredibly dumb and I really want to have it.”

“Tastes?”

“Hard to explain. C’mon, let me get it! I’ll hide it under the counter. Please!” She glared at him. “I’ll give you a margarita vending machine.”

“Agh, _fine_. You do know how to sweet talk a gal.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Hey, what’s the memory for my most significant food, according to my file?”

“New Years Eve dinner with the Brainy Bunch. Shrimp seemed the most obvious choice among the foods you had that night. We’ll get the fresh and frozen goods at the end.”

“Oh, but you’re not in that memory! And neither is Janet.”

“Well, I only have records from Earth. But it doesn’t matter, you’re all in mine.” He squeezed her shoulder, briefly running a thumb through her collarbone, and Eleanor felt herself swallow, leaning into his touch.

_Stop paying attention to what his fingers are doing._

She blinked. “What is it?”

“It’s technically our dessert.”

“Of course it is.”

“Brownies from our last night in my neighborhood. _Regular_ brownies this time. There’s work tomorrow morning.”

“Buzzkill. Hey… can I change my meal?”

“Sure. What would you like to have?”

“The pizza we ate the night before our soul-saving journey. Might not be shrimp, but the memory means more if you’re all in it.”

“Eleanor Shellstrop, are you getting ‘goopey’ on me?”

She crossed her arms, looking at front. “No! You’re dumb and, actually, I hate you. I take it all back: I want the shrimp I ate before meeting _you_ , annoying demon.”

“Too bad for you, you've already told me you love me.”

She froze. 

_No. What?_

_How-? No._

_Oh, wait._

_He’s teasing me._

Air finally passed through her lungs. “Yeah, you wish.” That didn’t come out as sharp as she intended it. “Do you need anything else? I think it’s time we go back to the neighborhood.”

“Just a quick stop to get milk and butter. Oh, and I want ice cream, too!”

“Dude, you’ll get cavities at this rate!”

“I literally can’t. But I can speed things up if you want us to head back.” She heard him snap his fingers and the baking section they were passing suddenly transformed into the dairy one, just as a line of cashiers manifested itself at the end of the aisle.

“Do you lose points for being mean to a fake cashier?”

“Of course you would, if you were on Earth. Intentions are what matter. And you’ve avoided eternal damnation by now, but people who mistreat retail workers get their own section in the Bad Place. It’s like that movie _Saw_ , but inside a Walmart.” He paused. “So be nice or I’ll abandon you in the toys aisle and fill it with kids with runny noses.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make jokes about unmarked items being free. No need to torture me. You have too much power, bud. And now that I think about it, I should take more advantage of that.”

“Just don’t let Jason know I can blow up stuff, please.”

“Never.”

* * *

He looked kind of cute wearing an apron. The untied bow tie around his neck helped.

And _maybe_ she thought about dusting that happy, dorky, I’m-doing-human-stuff expression of his with flour, but Eleanor had watched enough movies to know that was a dangerous move.

It was all friendly, of course. All entirely friendly and platonic. But still, not the best idea. For reasons. There were reasons. She just didn’t feel like explaining them to herself now.

“You’re not going to do any work?”

Her head rested on her palms as she leaned against the counter. “Nope. Knowing what to do doesn’t mean I like cooking. I’m just supervising my Assistant so he doesn’t break the world putting a pan in the microwave.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry. And you noticed right before it blew up.” Michael took out a spoon and offered it to her. “Here. Try Tahani’s sauce.”

She stepped closer to him and grabbed the spoon, not daring to eat straight from his hand. For- for _reasons_. “You mean Tahini sauce?” 

He laughed. “Don’t ever tell her I told you that story.”

The condiments were great, it was not burned and the consistency was nice. “Hey, this is really good! Nice work, buddy!”

He looked a bit smug at that and she rolled her eyes. “Well, with an exact replica of the recipe and you bossing me around, I better get it right for once.”

“Why this amount of food, anyway?” The kitchen was already stoked with piles of pans and pots, but Michael was, at much, halfway done. “We’re just five tonight and only four of us can eat.”

“I want to try everything! And if there’s anyone to blame for that, it’s you. I rarely ate when I lived on my own. _You_ are the one who showed me the wonders of the culinary world. Pass me some oil for the jalapeño poppers, please.”

She handed him a bottle, narrowing her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t use those words.”

“Of course you didn’t. You just said ‘food rules’ with your mouth full of pasta. All I’m saying is, if I start gaining weight, it’s entirely your fault.”

Eleanor leaned against the counter, looking at him. “Well, you still got that silver fox vibe going for you, so I wouldn’t worry.”

_Just an innocent compliment. Nothing I haven’t done before._

“Huh.” He pointed a frying mesh at her. “But not enough to win the contest?”

She couldn’t tell him it was to keep Tahani’s nose out of her business, so that was clearly off the table.

After a moment of hesitation, she crossed her arms and looked around the room. “Well, maybe you just need to work harder to get my attention.”

_Easy, Shellstrop._

“...Or maybe you just have to pop that booty, like I told you.” She poked his side with a rolling pin, glancing back at him. “This house is making you lazy and that’s starting to show.”

He laughed at that. He thought too highly of his own skin suit to buy it.

She reached out and snatched the bowtie off his neck, tossing it on the counter before walking out of the kitchen. “I’ll give you a clue. Lose this thing for dinner tonight. But keep the apron.”

“Why?” 

She turned around at the sound of his voice and shrugged. “No reason. Just to try something different.”

A little, _entirely_ friendly push in the right direction never hurt anyone, right?

* * *

Maybe her clues had to be a little more specific. Because the next day he showed up at the office in some strange tights, a diamond pattern vest and a beret with a pompom on top.

She was basically gawking at him. “What the _fork_ are you wearing?”

“I just got back from playing golf with Brent. And this is a typical outfit for that sport.”

“ _No._ ” She looked down at her own green clothes and stood to climb the spiral staircase. “I’m changing. I’ll wear a different color or something. I don’t want _anything_ to do with-” Her palm waved around his clothes. “With that.”

He protested behind her. “I- I just wanted to try something different, Eleanor! Don’t be mean!”

She faced him for only a second, giggling. “This is a step in the wrong direction, bud.”

* * *

_“I’m waiting for Chidi. That has always been the plan. I love him too much to let him go. He's my soulmate, real or fake. And I don’t have feelings for Michael. I seriously don't.”_

_“...I’m telling you, babe, the only one I got eyes for is my hot, super jacked, smart as Hell, kind and adorable dorky professor, with that smile and those arms and that ash and all his- Sorry. I got carried away. But you get the point.”_

* * *

Eleanor was lying on the grass, propped up on one of her elbows, with Michael sitting across from her, at the edge of the little stage in the town square. He kept subtly staring at the subjects, who were having a picnic nearby. She knew he could hear what they were saying, even through the considerable distance between them.

His eyes widened before he let out a low hum. “Brent just complimented Chidi.”

She quickly turned to face the residents. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah, see? He even called him by the right name and all.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking. I-”

_What ―or who― were you glancing at, Shellstrop?_

“...I just got distracted.”

He didn’t seem to react, still looking at the two men out of the corner of his eye. “He’s _very_ good at hiding it, but Brent seems almost nervous. He’s also full of love for himself, but that one’s obvious. And Chidi’s surprised, of course. His hand is itching. Maybe he’s thinking about what happened last month, when he punched him.” He paused to let out a little laugh. “That was so cool.”

“How can you know these things? Do your glasses have superpowers or something?”

He turned to look at her, but now she was observing the residents. “I see these things in your auras.”

“So you also do that to _me_?! What the fork, man? Please, I’m gonna have to blindfold you around the house or something.” 

_Wait. What?_

She scratched her arm, looking around the square. “I mean- uh- nevermind.” 

Lucky for her, the guy’s mind didn’t appear to have a gutter. 

“You’re quite hard to read, actually. If that makes you feel better.”

Her brow creased and she finally met his eyes. “I am? Why?”

He smiled at her, holding her gaze. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

* * *

_“I know tension when I see it, Tahani. This is_ not _the case. The guy isn't even attracted to humans.”_

* * *

The others closed the door on their way out of the office and Michael sat down on top of the desk, crossing his arms.

“So… Tahani this week?”

She only glanced at him for a second before turning back to her notes. “Yep.”

“And Jason last week, and Janet the one before. And you the two weeks before that? You keep trying to put Chidi up, even though we all think that's cheating. And the cycle repeats?”

Eleanor kept writing. “Yep.”

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me why I never win Hottest Savior!”

She dropped her pen at that and looked up at him. “You never tell _me_ I’m hot. You have no grounds, at all, to complain about this, man.”

“I told you, I have no ability to gauge human attractiveness. Is this payback for what I said when you were bald? Does that still bother you?”

“No, that was ages ago!” With a cheeky smile on her face, she shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s not very... fair of you to ask me this.”

Michael sighed. “Fine. You’re conventionally attractive. Are you happy? It’s one of the reasons I chose you, in fact. The four of you are well adjusted to the human parameters of beauty that were contemporary to your time on Earth. It made it easier to torture you. Like a reality TV show.”

She rolled her eyes. “I _know_ humans think I’m hot, I own a mirror, dude. That’s not what I’m asking you to say. I just-”

 _Damn it. What are you_ doing _, Shellstrop?_

Her eyes closed for a moment before she stood and stepped away from the desk, avoiding his eyes. “I just remembered I told Simone I would go see her.” Her voice dropped to a mumble as she neared the door. “And this is getting a little weird.”

He called her when she grabbed the handle. “Eleanor.”

She turned around, not even blinking.

_“Do you even know what you're getting into here?”_

_“Do you?”_

_I sure as fork have no idea._

Michael exhaled, letting out a light laugh. “It’s not that I don’t- look… I don’t _understand_ how attractiveness works. Not really.”

He took out his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But I- I _see_ things. I see people. I don’t know if I find your smile pleasant because it’s symmetrical or because I just like seeing you happy. Same with your skin or your eyes. Yeah, the color of your eyes is interesting but maybe it’s the way you look at things. The way you _observe_ the world around you.”

He had stood up from the desk and was walking closer. Eleanor felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest, with her hand still on the doorknob.

_This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just- just two friends, one complementing the other._

_It’s nothing._

_Relax._

He cleared his throat, stopping more than a meter away from her. “I don’t know if that’s what you people mean by being ‘pretty’, but I do- I do _notice_ those things, if that’s what you wanted to hear.”

_Oh._

She was certainly not expecting details.

He began to climb the spiral staircase before she opened her mouth to- well, to say _something_ , who knows what.

“Maybe I don’t let you win the contest because I don’t want people thinking I got favorites.”

 _What the_ forking shirtball _was_ that _, Shellstrop?_

He only turned his head, visibly confused. “What?”

She firmly held onto the doorknob, as if to fight the temptation of following him. “I’m just saying… You _are_ technically my subordinate. And I’m supposed to be ethical now.” She dared to send a smile ―a completely innocent smile, _thank you very much_ ― in his direction. “Maybe it’s best, morally speaking, that I keep my opinions to myself.”

She opened the door and quickly left, before giving him time to react.

_That was bold, Shellstrop._

_Too bold._

She took a deep breath, walking out of the waiting room. 

_But hey, a little banter meant no harm, right?_

There was one thing she knew for sure: the contest was cancelled, starting today.

* * *

_“You know what? Forget I said anything. Can we just drop the subject, for good? I really don't wanna think about it, not this close to the end of the year. But I promise you, there's nothing there. I mean it.”_

* * *

Eleanor opened the tap and filled a glass of water, without ever stopping her whining. “You would think there aren’t muscle knots in Heaven.” She kept searching for any sort of analgesic she could find in their kitchen. "Forking afterlife."

“Well, for starters, you’re not in Heaven. But can you tone it down? The static noise coming out of your back is breaking my concentration.” 

She was not even surprised by those kinds of comments at this point.

Michael's voice came from the dining room, where piles of papers, manuals and files were splattered around the table. With only a few months left, stakes were high and so was stress. It almost seemed as if the second half of the year was passing much faster than the first one, and Eleanor was the only being capable of keeping him away from day drinking (most unexpected plot twist of the afterlife, and that was saying _a lot_ considering their history). 

Although, to be fair, he was keeping _her_ away from day drinking, as well. She was not precisely more relaxed than he was.

Now, things as trivial as seating arrangements for dinner parties were thoroughly supervised by the guy, and Eleanor began to understand why his first experiment had failed. Too much attention to detail could make him lose sight of the bigger picture.

And today, she wasn't sure if he was trying to organize Janet's babies —for _some_ reason— or if he was still deciding whether to sit Simone across or next to Brent.

Either way, he had been at it for the past hour.

“I can’t tone down a pain, you _dummy_! You don’t think I would if I could?”

“I told you Jason’s tennis techniques could be dangerous. You wouldn’t listen. You got out of it pretty fine, though. One time, he actually managed to twist hi-”

“It’s not _that_! For the most part. I'm just stressed... Can't you help me?” He finally looked up at that. “Do something with your magic vision goggles, I don't know. I've tried, but I just make it worse. My arm does this weird, twisty thing that doesn't look good. Or normal. And everything hurts, I'm too sore.”

_It's just a favor. Pals do these things for each other._

“Okay.” He started to walk towards the kitchen. “I- I’ve never done this before. I have caused these, in the Bad Place, but never fixed them.”

She gasped, teasing. “How _evil_ of you! I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.”

Eleanor felt his laugh as he came to stand behind her. “Well, maybe then I could finish those arrangements without any distractions.”

“I don't think seats are the real problem here, man.”

One hand landed on her left shoulder, holding her in place. "Let's see what we've got here." While his other fingers rested on her ribs, his right thumb quickly settled on her middle back, near the spine. It was the exact same spot that was killing her, and he found it faster than she could have done herself.

“I need you to breathe so I can see better.” She hadn’t realized she stopped.

The curiosity was killing her.

_See what, exactly?_

Michael rubbed a few slow circles around the area of the knot, almost assessing it. Just at the moment she was beginning to relax, her eyes almost closing at his touch, he pressed on it, very hard, for a couple of uninterrupted seconds. Suddenly, Eleanor felt good again.

Screw that, she felt forking fantastic.

But she blushed at the sound that escaped her. It was no different than a grunt, but it came out along with a _barely_ perceptible sigh, and she could already hear his voice in her head, asking her how could human lungs be capable of doing so many different things at once. He didn't do that, though.

Instead, he began to brush tension away from the muscles on her back, literally sweeping it away and pushing it out with his fingers. Sometimes not even touching her, just hovering over her skin, doing whatever mumble jumble those weird dimensions let him do. Each stroke left her feeling better and, by the time he was done, she felt almost light-headed.

“So… better?”

Eleanor opened her eyes. “How the _shirt_ did you do all that?”

She saw his hand reach out for the glass she had left sitting there, still full. Michael did not just eat more since living with her. He also seemed to have become increasingly thirsty. That hoarse voice of his might have _just_ been a sign of that.

“Your body tells me what to do, actually. The intended purpose of my kind is to make humans feel pain, but I guess we can also make you feel good.”

He began to step back, but Eleanor sharply turned around and held his wrist on top of the counter, keeping him close to her. His nonchalant tone only intrigued her more. The guy was either too innocent or still a bit cruel. Didn't he realize how his own words sounded? Couldn't he tell the things they made her think?

Her eyes scanned his face, taking in that sharp jawline, his slightly messed up hair, his barely parted lips… and his eyes. Most of all, those deep blue eyes staring right at her, even more confused than hers.

She couldn't keep denying it.

She finally admitted the reason she tried pulling him towards her only to drive him away, and why she kept hurting him. She was able to give meaning to those dreams where faces swapped each other and she woke up not knowing whose name she’d cried out in her sleep.

It was easier.

It was simply easier to push him, to get him —in the least healthy, fair and ‘ethical’ way possible— to leave her, so she wouldn't have to do it herself. So she wouldn't have to choose. It was easier to deny it, to say _he_ had feelings for her because, that way, she would not have to face the fact that _she_ was the one who wanted this.

That she wanted him.

“And what else is it telling you now?”, she muttered, serious.

He didn't answer, and she didn't give him much time to do it, either. He just kept his eyes fixed on hers, with a puzzled frown on his face. She couldn't tell if he inched himself closer or farther away from her. It didn't matter.

They couldn't.

She looked down when he opened his mouth to speak and beat him to it.

“Nevermind. I think you were right that time, bud, and I don’t really wanna know.”

It was enough to be aware of him knowing every single thing she did and thought of on Earth. But this, this _thing_ where he knew what she was feeling, sometimes even before she did, was too terrifying. She never expected to be afraid of _this_ Michael, not when the other one wanted to literally torture her and she never batted an eye at him. Well, not in the "scared" way, at least.

She let go of his wrist.

She couldn’t _feel_ without him knowing. And he surely perceived whatever forking shape or color this confusion took on her, the one that had been creeping up her back for almost a year.

Who was she kidding? For-

For too forking long.

She left the kitchen, then the house and then the office. 

Eleanor heard him calling her, in an almost baffled voice. She didn't turn around, fearing to do something stupid if she did, and hurt the two most important men of her existence along the way.

Hopefully, he would not understand the meaning of her words. But maybe he had the answer way before she did. And he just hid it from her. Should she thank him or curse him for that?

None of it changed the fact that she felt exposed every time she looked at him. Exposed, naked and vulnerable.

Forking nine dimensions.

* * *

_“I just- I don't even know what is going on between us, to be honest.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose told me she wanted to see one of the shopping trips these two went on, so here's my take on it. Also, Michael cooking has *total* No Place Like vibes.
> 
> The part in the town square is now inspired by the *second* pic on this post from Ted: https://www.instagram.com/p/B4lsdDOl0Y_/


	12. Acceptance

_The moment she pulled the door of the waiting room open, Michael's voice made her turn her head back. He was standing in a place and a position she had seen him in more than 800 times and yet, he looked like a completely different being._

_"Eleanor? Come back inside."_

_Her feet responded for her and she found herself walking into the office. She frowned at how strangely stern his tone sounded and studied his posture for a moment when he closed the door after her. Eleanor made her way towards her chair but he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her and sat on it, instead._

_She narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back in his seat and watched her._

_“It’s not very polite to ask a question and refuse to hear the answer.”_

_Her arms crossed, defiant, as she raised her chin at him. “I told you, I don't wanna know what it is.”_

_“You don’t?” He let out a chuckle. “Then why did you come back?”_

Fork.

_Eleanor didn’t have an answer to that. Quite the opposite, in fact. She knew perfectly well she had to stop this, quit playing around, give up the bantering and teasing before things got too far, deal with this matter properly and no longer play hide and seek with a literal demon. She also knew she should turn her back on him and leave._

_But… she didn’t_ want _to do that._

_So she rested her body against the desk, sliding in the space left between it and his legs and using her foot to push the chair back by one of its wheels._

_“Fine. Tell me what you see, then.”_

_He took a moment of his time to run his eyes all the way from her feet to her face before standing up. As he towered over her, Michael leaned in closer and planted one hand on the desk, half-locking her in her spot. His right arm was folded on his back, leaving more than enough room for her to leave if she wanted to. But she wasn't even thinking about that, so she just waited, feeling his breath nearing her ear._

_“What was I about to say? Let’s see… the first thing I see when I look at you, the one that’s all over your aura, is what you’ve been trying to hide from me for quite some time, now. But let’s not waste our time stating the obvious here.” A few fingers traced her back and moved up to her shoulder. “I also know you’re feeling very stressed.” He squeezed it for a couple of seconds before his hand travelled to her hair. “And that you want me to help you with that.”_

_She was not expecting him to be such a smug motherforker._

_She tilted her neck to one side, exposing it, when he tried to move some blonde strands out of it. His other hand softly stroked her ribs, making her shiver, and Eleanor took a shallow, shaky breath, rushing to grab his shoulder blades._

_“I could ask you_ how _you prefer me to help you but, as I’ve told you, your body tells me what you want on its own.”_

 _And even though she_ was _expecting it, she still gasped the first time his mouth fell on the base of her throat._

 _“However, it seems…_ ethical _to ask for confirmation.” His words were peppered between slow and wet kisses that stole her breath away and she pulled him closer, eager to feel him pressed up against her. “So, what do you want, Eleanor?”_

_Their hands were moving all over each other’s clothes, at last touching without any restraints. She dug her fingers in his hair, keeping his teeth and tongue on her neck as she smirked, already panting._

_“_ You- _you tell me.” She felt his smile on her skin and knew he didn't fall for that._

_Michael grabbed her by the waist to position her on top of the desk and traced the inner side of her thighs, opening them, before his mouth began to move lower._

_“What's the expression? Oh, right- I think you want us to ‘stop working’.”_

_And lower,_

_And_ lower…

_"Ah! Oh fork, M-"_

* * *

“Michael!”

Her eyes opened and her hand rushed to cover her mouth.

Well, at least this time she knew whose name it was. For sure.

_Shirt._

_Shirt, shirt, shirt._

She needed to ask Janet to soundproof her room.

 _(Hey, that’s a_ brilliant _idea. For_ many _reasons)._

_But what the fork, brain? Thanks for helping out here. Not._

She checked the time. The sudden need for fresh air flooded her, but it was still the middle of the night. Besides, Michael was surely in the living room. 

_Oh, fork. What if he heard me?_

Eleanor Shellstrop was no prude, but this was not a common situation. And she barely managed to sort out what had happened a few hours earlier, so backtracking on that did not seem like a good idea. She wanted to slap the little voice in the back of her head telling her _this_ outcome had definitely been more fun than the real one. It was true, of course, but that didn't mean she should be thinking about it.

She should not be thinking about him in that way _at all_ ! And not just that! She should _not_ have done something so incredibly forking stupid as she did today.

But most of all, she wanted to slap herself for actually _liking_ the confident, almost arrogant version of Michael her brain decided to go with. That authoritative vibe kind of reminded her of Sam the Eagle and that deep, growly voice seemed straight out of one of those reboots where he was not losing his mind yet.

He looked so forking sexy it broke her heart knowing her actual demon seemed to be much less at ease with the whole situation.

_Eleanor hoped for the best and feared the worst when the sound of his steps warned her he was climbing down the spiral staircase. She straightened herself on the Big Chair and pulled off her best working-hard expression as she pretended to read an Accounting manual they used to try and assess some kind of points total for the subjects._

_She had enough time to turn the book over on its correct orientation._

_After taking a moment to breathe and mentally insult herself, she had gone back to the office, but had decided it was best not to go upstairs until she could think of a way to explain the unexplainable._

_Too bad Michael got ahead of that._

_“Hey, I didn’t know you were here. I was actually waiting for you.” His movements were slow and he hesitated in his steps, with a still quite confused expression on his face. “Is everything-” He swallowed. “Is everything alright?”_

_She snorted, waving a hand at him. “Of course it’s alright! Why wouldn’t it be?”_

Please, buy it. Please, buy it. Please, buy it.

 _His hand scratched his head as he glanced at the floor. He seemed a bit lost and Eleanor hated herself for putting him through- well, through_ that _. She hoped she had not forked things up with him once more, not bearing the idea of losing him. The best outcome was a probably very awkward conversation, but she would take that any day over the worst one: another fall out._

_He finally looked at her. “What was that?”_

_Pretending it never happened was apparently off the table. Fork. Well, then the second best thing she could do was buy herself some time to try and ease things off._

_“What was what, buddy?” She cringed at her own words._

Don’t underestimate the guy either, Shellstrop.

_He walked a couple of steps towards the desk and placed his palms on it, as if to sit down, but seemed to decide against it and straightened again. Eleanor could tell how nervous he was and wondered what the fork was going to come out of this, while trying to come up with an excuse or a white lie to salvage her stupidity._

_“I- I don’t know. You just stormed out. If I did something wrong, would you tell me? If I ever hurt you or do anything I’m not supposed to do, I want to know.”_

_She firmly shook her head and reached out to squeeze his hand for only a moment. “No, no, no! You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael. Of course you didn’t hurt me. Please, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. The big softie you are…”_

_He gave her a small smile at that and Eleanor’s shoulders lightened a little._

_“Okay. If you say so... It’s just-” He paused, narrowing his eyes at the space between them. “I can’t help feeling like I did something I wasn’t supposed to do.”_

_She swallowed, not even blinking. “What makes you think that?”_

_“I don’t really know how to explain it. The last time I felt something similar was-” He closed his eyes, turning his head away from her. “Forget it.”_

_“Michael?”_

_“That night, at Tahani’s. Right before-”_

_He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to, either. Both knew perfectly well what he meant by that. She couldn’t tell him he felt that because, both times, she recognized there appeared to be something_ more _than a common friendship between them, and she wasn’t able to hide the feelings that realization gave her._

_So she left._

Oh fork, I'm an ash.

_She shook her head, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “What? You’re afraid we’re gonna have some big fight again? No, buddy! Everything is fine!”_

_One of his hands went to massage his chest. “Then there’s something I don’t understand. I had this feeling I’d never felt before and I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know what to call it, either.”_

Oh, mama. I’m so forked.

_She barely saw the way his eyes widened and wondered for a second if she had actually said the words out loud._

_He ran a hand through his face and tried to smile. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”_

_She knew she should ask him to describe what he was feeling, or think of a way to make him feel better, but she didn’t want to open the door to more moments of blurred lines and close distances. If she heard in what way he was feeling confused, they might no longer manage to be normal again._

_She began to wonder what ‘normal’ even meant between her and Michael._

Why did I fork this up? 

_“Look, I’ve been worried about a lot of things. And I know I stormed out and was acting a little weird, but it was nothing. It had nothing to do with you, it was just me. Something I had to do, so don’t worry.”_

_His brow creased, curious._

Good, curious is better than scared. 

Did I seriously freak him out so much? Or was something happening to- to _him_ , as well?

 _There was a chance he felt it, too. Perhaps, the seconds she spent fixing her eyes on his, barely a few inches away from his body, were enough to make him understand_ something _. New or old? Wonderful or disgusting, exciting or terrible? She couldn’t help wondering in what way was he thinking about her since then, if something so simple managed to change things for both of them. Or was that the last drop of the glass, one that kept dangerously filling with each and every dance, slumber party, dinner, game night and adventure they shared over the years? Did this seriously open up a whole new realm of experiences for a being such as him? Was he now... longing for something? Desiring? Did the very idea of bodies, skins, touches or breathes seem different to him now?_

Did I just pop a demon’s horny cherry?

_In that case, it was far better to put out the flame before it grew, even if it meant turning things awkward for a minute. Because, as much as she liked thinking about it, she knew she had to put an end to this. For once, Eleanor Shellstrop wasn’t looking to brag about turning more than a few heads along her way: he was not supposed to be one of them. Not this close to the end of the year, not with Chidi without his memories and both of them living in the same house._

_If he had grown out of the girls having cooties stage, she had no other option but to make him go back to it._

_“I mean it, it wasn’t about you. Actually, I had a… human body thing I needed to fix. Yeah, that’s- that’s why I left.”_ I hope this works. _“It was a little embarrassing, so I just decided to walk out. I’m telling ya, you seriously don’t wanna hear the details, dude. You would think it’s really, really gross._

Hey, that’s technically not a lie.

_He rested his back on the desk, a little surprised. He was not expecting that. “Oh. Okay.”_

_She tried not to wonder too much_ what _he was_ _expecting._

This will get awkward, I can feel it even without nine dimensions.

_Eleanor twirled a pen around her fingers, trying to get herself to do something. “Yep. So, no worries.”_

_She dared to look up and saw he didn’t look very convinced by that. Michael pointed a finger around her body without breaking eye contact. “But it’s not- Please tell me I remembered to get rid of the- the monthly thing this time.”_

Oh, for Fork’s sake, this is worse than I thought.

 _“Yeah. Yeah, you did. Uhm, thanks for that. I mean, Attempt #794 was_ clearly _Hell.”_

_He snorted and Eleanor exhaled, relaxing a little before laughing with him._

_“I’m sorry, I was getting a little desperate by that point.”_

_“All water under the bridge, bro.”_

_Michael adjusted his jacket and his bowtie, still fidgeting a little. “Then what was it? Is there anything I can do to help?”_

Yes, stop asking me such open-ended questions.

_“It’s nothing. I just had a-”_

None of the things you’ve said explain why you decided to forgo the space for the Holy Spirit and just grab the guy, Shellstrop.

So think!

_“...I had something in my eye.” She lied, nodding to appear more convincing. “I was right about to ask you if you could see it but I didn’t. Eyes are… weird, man. And even a little gross. They pop out in cartoons, you know… They’re weirdly smooth and slippery and wet and-” She swallowed. “And too white. Didn’t seem like your area.”_

_“Oh, I get it. That’s not gross, though. Well, it sounds a little gross when you put it like that, but it’s not a problem. Uh- would you like me to take a look?”_

_She put out a hand between them before he even thought of leaning in. “No!”_ Calm, sister. _“It was just an eyelash and I got rid of it. So it’s all cool, but thanks, bud.”_

_“Okay.” Michael stayed silent for a moment and awkwardly combed his fingers through his hair. “Look- I don’t want, by any means, to push you. But I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a bit… jumpy.”_

Fork.

I’m turning into a bad liar.

 _Eleanor sighed and massaged her forehead._ Oh, boy. This is gonna be tough. 

_“Fine. Can you sit down?”_

_She motioned for him to take place on top of the desk and glanced around the office for a moment, avoiding his eyes. “The truth is, you had a reason to think something was odd. That’s because something was odd. And I’m not really sure how to say this, but I was about to do something really dumb, that I know very well I shouldn’t do. And I didn’t wanna tell you about it, but I guess I promised to be honest with you, so…”_ Oh, shirt, I don’t wanna say it. _“I was... about to…”_

C’mon, brain! Last chance here.

_She finally looked up at him. “Lash out at you! That’s it! I was about to lash out at you.”_

Thank you, brain!

 _“I’ll admit it: that’s why you have the same feeling you had at Tahani’s months ago! We’re, what? A few months away from ending this forking experiment, and I’m getting really stressed out. I kinda_ needed _to yell at something or someone, but I know I’m_ not _supposed to do that, so I just bailed. You know, grab some fresh air, maybe kick a flower pot… Because for real, man, you_ seriously _don’t deserve to put up with my_ stupid _, very,_ very _stupid impulses.” Her fist pumped the air when the last part ―that is to say, the_ real _part― came out of her mouth. “And I really,_ really _need to learn to think before acting.”_

 _She was not sure if she imagined his sigh of relief. “Oh, Eleanor! I know how much is on your shoulders right now. You have every right to feel stressed, and I appreciate you trying not to take it out on me, but we_ can _talk about these things if you need it.”_

_She blinked. “‘Bout what?”_

_An incredibly brief frown of doubt showed up on Michael’s face and she cursed herself for un-learning how to lie._

Was breaking a promise to keep a more important one ethical?

 _She was not precisely_ lying _to him either, because she was seriously stressed about all this._

_And it was wrong to hide him things, but it was better than hurting him._

_“Well, whatever is worrying you. You know I don’t particularly enjoy uh- arguments.”_ The word you’re looking for here is ‘outbursts’, bud, but thanks. _“But that doesn’t mean, at all, we can’t share things with each other. As long as we can control our tempers, I think we need to talk about our concerns. You know you’re not alone, Eleanor. And if you’re feeling tired or angry or frustrated-”_

Oh, I’m feeling _very_ frustrated.

_“Know that I’m here for you.”_

He’s so sweet. He’s such a tall, sweet dork.

_“You know you can be honest with me.”_

He really is tall, very tall.

 _“You can talk to me about_ anything _. I'm serious.”_

I just want to grab his dorky face and his dorky, gigantic body and-

Okay, Eleanor. Chill the fork out or he’s gonna notice.

_She just smiled, holding his gaze. “Thanks, Michael. That means a lot. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. And I don’t really feel like talking, but maybe we could call it a night and watch a movie or something?”_

You can be normal around him, Shellstrop. Do normal things, like watching a movie, without making things weird.

But maybe lay down on the cushions for once and not on _him_. At least tonight.

_“Sure. I’ll go make us some nachos.”_

_He stood and began to walk up the stairs. She wondered if he really hesitated for a moment or if she was just becoming paranoid._

_“You’re turning into a full-on chef, buddy!”_

_Her laughter drifted off when Michael’s steps could no longer be heard and she sighed, resting her back against the chair._

_Fork._

Eleanor rubbed the back of her neck, kicking off the covers as she sat up in bed. She desperately hoped things would become easier with time, or just straight up disappear. She fought the urge to _actually_ slap herself and tried to control her own breathing.

_Holy forking shirt._

With any luck, he would not ask her questions about whatever dumb movie they supposedly watched, because she hadn’t payed attention to a single line. Resting her back on the couch and her head on the armrest opposite his, they occupied different corners of the couch and just stayed silent, with only the crunching sound of the homemade nachos joining the TV. When she straightened her tired legs, her feet rested against his thigh and she swallowed, trying not to think too hard about it. 

But she couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking about it, too.

 _Think_ was all she would do.

And for now, she could perfectly pretend nothing was happening, put her best acting skills to practice and endure the next few months as if everything was entirely normal. She had made Michael a promise she intended to keep more than anything else in the universe. She also told herself she would not risk this, she would not risk _him_ again. And she meant it.

This was not worth her relationship with Chidi nor her friendship with Michael. She would not jeopardize her happiness and much less the one of those two men. No. She would deal with her feelings like an adult, a responsible, ethical and rational adult.

After all, a little, meaningless crush never hurt anyone, right?

* * *

“So... You win, babe.” Eleanor rubbed her eyelids and settled her cup of coffee (‘tea’ at teatime? No, thank you) on the table. “I’ll admit it. I do have feelings for Michael.”

Tahani gasped and changed seats to place herself beside her. “Oh, darling! Do not say that! The last thing I want is to see you suffering over love!”

She grimaced, hiding her face behind her hands. “Agh, don’t say that word, Tahani! This is just a stupid crush, I’ll get over it. But I don’t like this. I live with the guy, I feel like this is just gonna make things awkward between us.”

She lowered her voice, unsure. “Do you know, for certain, if he has feelings for you?”

“I don't even know what is going on between us, to be honest. Sometimes he looks at me and it seems like he’s crazy about me. But last night, when I- he barely reacted, he didn’t _do_ anything.”

Tahani’s eyes widened and she began to regret even wanting to tell her this. “What do you mean by ‘last night’? What did you do last night?”

_Oh, fork._

Eleanor looked around the room, avoiding the stares of her friend. “I almost came close to _maybe_ trying to- I didn’t! But I kinda might’ve been about to-”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend tilt her head at her, surely beginning to lose her patience.

“Eleanor!”

She picked up her (empty) cup to speak into its rim, as if not to be heard. “I think I almost kissed him.”

“You did _what_?! Eleanor, are you out of your mind?! What on Earth were you thinking?”

“ _I didn’t do it!_ I told you, I _almost_ did it. I didn’t even try, I just kinda implied I wanted to do it. I didn’t even imply _that_ exactly. Well, I did grab him, but- oh, fork, it’s hard to explain, Tahani. The thing is nothing happened and now I just have to swallow my feelings for the next couple of months until Chidi gets his memories back and we’re together again. _He_ is the one I wanna be with, he’s the one I really love. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“What did Michael do?”

“Nothing! Look, I got a little too close, he was just staring at me all puzzled and I bailed before anything could happen. Then we talked, I made up an excuse and I _think_ he bought it. The guy’s really sheltered when it comes to sex and stuff so, best case scenario, he didn’t really get it. Worst case, well- maybe I confused him, _vis-à-vis_ uh- ‘us’.”

“Oh, dear!” She dramatically waved a hand at herself and Eleanor tried not to roll her eyes. “Listen to me, darling. Of course you have _every_ right to choose anyone you desire as a potential partner, whether it’s for a casual fling or a relationship. But if you’re telling me you will certainly ‘get over’ this and that you have no intentions of actually being with Michael, you cannot expect me to just stand by and watch you lead him on! Please, don’t do something you will end up regretting or he might end up hurt.”

Eleanor turned to face her friend and crossed her arms. “Are you forking kidding me? At the beginning of the year I was the one trying to get _you_ to stop avoiding the guy and now you’re telling me _I’m_ gonna hurt him? I won’t do anything! I’m telling you.”

Tahani mirrored her body language and kept her tone stern. “You’re telling me you’re making him confused and that’s more than enough! Eleanor, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and how he speaks of you… I don’t believe he needs to say the words out loud. And by the way, you know perfectly well that we’ve fixed things. He’s one of my dearest friends, just like Chidi and yourself. If any of you is a wanker to the other, it is my duty, as your friend, to ensure you behave as you must.”

“Are you saying I’m being a ‘wanker’?”

“I am not. I am saying you might act like one if you continue this nonsense while knowing, fully well, that you don’t plan on being serious nor honest with Michael.”

Eleanor rubbed her temples. Couldn’t she understand she had no intentions of hurting Michael? She might have not been the best friend in the past, but she was learning. And she really, _really_ didn’t want to cause him pain anymore. And the _only_ way she could do that was by keeping things the way they were. They were getting along better than ever, and she loved that. 

“This isn’t like that! I forked up once, that’s it! I can keep it in my pants, I won’t do _anything_ about this! Don’t worry.”

“Last time you told me that, you two spent more than a month not speaking to each other because you had an enormous fight! And Jason, Janet and I had to see you both in pain saying how awful it was to be apart. So forgive me if I insist on this, but it must be said! Because _I_ was the one comforting him when he came to my house to tell me how terribly he missed you but how fatigued he was over your treatment of him! And I would simply not accept that again!”

_Wow, she looks really hot when she’s angry._

Tahani rolled her eyes at her. “Eleanor, stop giving me that look.”

“Sorry, I got flashbacks.” Fights were fun between them in #218. “Look, babe, I was in denial back then. I didn’t know what I was feeling, I didn’t know what I wanted. Now I do. I promised Michael _and_ myself I would never hurt him again, and I meant that. This thing I’m feeling is gonna pass. And I don’t even know for sure if he has feelings for me-”

She sent her an incredulous glance. “Oh, please!”

Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t! And neither do you! We have to stop assuming these things. But I still know I don’t have to lead him on, and I told Chidi we would be together again when he got his memories back. That’s the plan, that’s what’s gonna happen. I know what I want. And I’m not risking my friendship with him again, much less over something so dumb!”

A single hand raised in her direction as Tahani let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I trust you to do whatever you think to be right.”

Eleanor scooted closer to her friend and placed a hand on her own chest. “Trust me, I’m serious. All the times I’ve been a bench to him in the past were because I was confused. Once I snapped at him because he said something about us pretending to be soulmates and I freaked out. I got super scared because _I_ had thought about that. And not to make chidi jealous. We were just doing something at the house and I was like ‘Hey, this is nice’. So I felt like he was reading my mind or, even worse, like _he_ was thinking about me in that way. And I just spat out the reasons why that was a terrible idea and I yelled at him and I-” She looked down, disappointed at her past actions. “Oh fork, I was so awful to him that night. Sometimes I don’t get how he puts up with me. But see? I’m telling you, I won’t do that again, ever. Now I know better.” 

“I trust you.” Tahani nodded and stared at the distance in silence for a moment, reflexive. “But let me see if I understand this correctly. You have been ‘confused’ for a very long time, and you have thought about this for quite some time, as well. But you only have a small, fleeting crush on him?”

Eleanor just nodded. She was already in love and it was with Chidi. So the thing with Michael had to be merely passing. 

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Her friend exhaled and she wondered when people stopped believing in everything she said.

Eleanor sighed and dropped her back on the couch, looking at the ceiling. At least she talked it out with someone. “I hope living with him doesn’t get too hard. It’s really scary that he can see in nine dimensions. He can literally see what we feel, you know?”

“Are you serious?”

She glanced at the other woman and saw she looked a little alarmed. At least she wasn’t the only one. “Yeah! He didn’t explain much, but it’s like in our ‘auras’ or something. But that’s what I don’t get. Like, he must _know_ I feel this way about him, but he never did anything about it. Maybe because of Chidi. Or maybe he’s not into me, at least not in the same way. Once, he told me he’s never done those kind of stuff, like sex or kissing. And he was never interested in that, either. In the Bad Place, sex is used to- you know. And he never wanted to be a part of that, not even when he was ‘evil’.”

“You’re saying he might be asexual or something like that?”

“I don’t know how it is for demons.” She shrugged and paused for a moment, frowning. “But sometimes he says things or looks at me, and I don’t know if I’m imagining things or he kinda does have a sex drive.” She raised an eyebrow at her friend. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Eleanor!”

She slapped her friend’s arm, laughing. “I’m kidding! I won’t do anything, I told you. Just let me have my fun, mentally. I won’t hurt the guy for thinking about him. And can you even blame me, babe? I mean, with those legs and that jaw and he gives the _best_ massages ever! Oh and his voice! That silver fox vibe he has drives me nuts. And he’s so forking tall. I think I’d have to stand on a box to kiss him-” She sat up and raised her palms, facing her friend before she misunderstood her. “Which I won’t do! If I’m telling you about it, it’s because I need to get the words out of my system and _not_ do it.”

“Fine. I suppose he does have a similar air to the husband of my dear friend Mary. And he’s quite handsome.”

“I have no idea who that is, but sure, whatever. Look, when my mind starts drifting away or things get a little heated, I’ll just think about the Queen or that old guy with the weird teeth I found on the bus once. I can handle this.”

Tahani narrowed her eyes at her and poured more tea on her cup. “It is only a crush after all, is it not?”

“A little, meaningless crush.”

* * *

Michael stole a few concerned glances in her direction throughout that day and some more after that. But she managed to pretend nothing had ever happened, at least nothing of key importance. At least, accepting she had a crush on her roommate slash best friend slash literal demon and former torturer meant she could do something about it. And by something, she meant literally _nothing_ : swallow her thoughts and desires until she could convince her mind it was best to just move on.

The first couple of weeks were _a little bit_ weird. The still rare but, for the first time, present uncomfortable silences between them let Eleanor know he might have not been as oblivious to the whole situation as she hoped. 

They practically didn’t touch each other. Not at first. She felt she had to pause the casual intimacy they had come to share during the course of the past few months. She still gave him warm smiles and held his hand or his arm when she guided him somewhere, but was careful enough to keep some distance, not daring to test her own willpower. 

Based on the way his fingers stopped grazing her shoulders and forearms, they were on the same page.

She missed that.

Nothing else changed. They still had their game nights, movie marathons and meals, they hung out with the group and sat side by side at the weekly meetings. They made jokes to each other and only had the occasional roommate argument over a few clashing habits. She endlessly teased him when he began practicing human magic, and never told him how cute he looked each time he got it right and giggled to himself. She _did_ console him when he got it wrong, though.

(Telling him magic was so lame he shouldn’t even worry about it counted as consolation, right?)

Everything was fine.

Stares sometimes got too long or a little intense. But she always broke eye contact before her brain even considered leaning in or saying something she shouldn’t.

Other times, she caught his eye while he studied her. The looks he gave her reminded her of a certain frustrated Architect, lost at the prospect of a terribly unpredictable human. Eleanor wondered if she had, once more, become an enigma in his eyes, or if she had ever stopped being one in the first place.

She wasn’t sure how much she wanted him to solve it.

Eventually, she got her shirt together and tried to forget about the whole thing. Or at least, not make it such a big deal. Fine, she wanted to bang the guy, she got a little blushed the first time he gave her a bouquet of flowers straight out of his jacket, and a little flushed when the stress messed up his hair and made him take off his bow tie. So what?

And _maybe_ she kept that bouquet inside a vase in her room. But that was it.

It didn’t _mean_ anything.

Some subtle differences were hard to ignore, though. At first, she could just say _I would hit that, in a different universe_ . But now? Now she _wanted_ to hit that, in _this_ universe. Those little changes meant a lot for a brain and a libido such as the ones Eleanor had: literally all of her friends fitted in the first category, while the second one was certainly less crowded.

Seeing him get comfortable every night, as he walked through their home with the collar of his shirt wide open, no jacket and no shoes on sent her mind to dangerous places. 

_I wonder if demons with big feet also- Oh, for fork’s sake, Shellstrop!_

_(I bet they do, though)._

Eleanor really liked watching him cook. He introduced himself in his own world when he was in the kitchen, and it seemed as if everything around him disappeared. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and put on one of his hundred aprons, all with stupidly bad puns. Her favorite was ‘A Queso the Mondays’ (because ‘What the Fork is for Dinner?’ got old _really_ fast) and his was ‘Loaf of my Life’ for, and she was quoting, “the irony”.

Lucky for her, he didn't have one that said ‘Let’s fork!’. Not even a mere little ‘Let’s spoon!’.

Yeah. Very lucky.

Stupid aprons.

Michael laughed each time he steamed his glasses, and kept refusing to put a heat protector on them. To approximate the full ‘human experience’, of course.

When he wasn't laughing at something, he had an intense and focused expression on his face. His concentration was at its fullest when he was cooking. The good thing about that was being able to totally check him out without him even noticing. She tested her theory making funny faces in his direction and then pretending to silently choke on something. When he showed no reaction, she felt safe to freely enjoy the sight.

She soundproofed the walls of her bedroom. 

And when he reached the end of the day tired and frustrated, she had to fight hard with herself not to return the favor he had made for her that night and help him relax.

The boundaries she set for herself were few but necessary. After all, there was no need to change anything between them over a little, meaningless crush. Right?

* * *

Eleanor managed to keep that _moderate_ physical distance for a good number of weeks, until one day she found him sitting on the couch, staring at the distance with a serious expression on his face.

“Michael? You okay, buddy? You look a little frozen.”

He suddenly snapped out of his trance and met her eyes, smiling. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She frowned and sat down on the coffee table, in front of him. He should've known by then he could never lie to her.

“No, you’re not. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He shook his head. “I’m just thinking about the experiment. Don’t worry.”

“That’s only like twenty percent of what’s going on. Something’s bothering you, I can tell. I know you, man. Talk to me.”

He sighed and stayed silent for a moment, looking around him. “I’m wondering where I’ll go when this is all over.”

“What do you mean? Like, if we’ll get to reform the system or something? I guess the Accountant’s office? To change the points?”

“No, Eleanor. I’m wondering where _I_ will go after all that. Don’t worry about you guys, I won’t stop until you all get into the Good Place. But I just- Forget this, I’m getting ahead of myself. There are hundreds of things I need to do right now, and I shouldn’t even be sitting here doing _nothing_.”

Michael began to stand up but she grabbed his arm and pulled him down again. “What are you talking about?! Go where? When- Are you leaving us?”

_Are you leaving me?_

He stared at her as if she was crazy. “Of course not! I would never _leave_ you. But only now I’ve realized that I don’t think we’ll get to spend eternity together. Yeah, first, we have to win. And then, hopefully, reform the afterlife system. And when that’s set and you all get into the Good Place, where you belong, I-”

He just shrugged, and she finally understood.

_“I’m wondering where I’ll go when this is all over.”_

No.

_No, no, no._

_He can’t- he can’t just not be_ there _. He’s always been there._

_He’s always been here, with me._

He must have read something around her because he smiled, running a hand through her hair. “No, Eleanor, don’t be sad! I’ll make sure you’re all safe and happy and I’ll get a job somewhere. Be a musician, maybe, or animate office parties with magic.”

_Dude, don’t make me feel worse._

She couldn’t keep her voice from breaking. “I don’t understand, man. Why are you saying this? Why wouldn’t we all be together?”

“Well, I highly doubt I’ll even be allowed into the Good Place. I’ll be more than happy if I can pay you a few visits, but I certainly won’t be _welcome_ there. I’m a demon. I don’t- I don’t belong there.”

Her head was rapidly shaking from side to side. She couldn’t imagine eternity without him. Fork, she could barely picture moving out! She took his hands between hers and fixed her eyes on his.

“You listen to me very carefully. You belong wherever any of us go, because we’re a family and we’ll stay together. You seriously think I’d just get into Heaven and leave you behind? You think any of us would do that? No freaking angel is gonna come and tell me I can’t spend forever with my best bud. If they try, Imma start throwing stuff, baby.”

At least she made him laugh with that, and she saw the sad glint in his eye, the one he was desperately trying to hide from her, beginning to falter.

One of her hands untangled from the rest to hold his shoulder. “I mean, c’mon, bud. We’ve met more than a few angels and they’re _nothing_ next to you. They don’t even come close! You should end up running Heaven yourself! You think the Good Place could be any ‘good’ if you’re not there with us? If we’re not there together? No, man. Not at all.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do. But this isn’t up to you, Eleanor. I’ve already gotten too far for a Middle Management guy who just got a lucky promotion.”

“No. It wasn’t luck. You worked your ash off to get where you are now. I know that sounds weird when I’m talking about you trying to torture me, but mostly I mean everything that happened after that. Do you have _any_ idea how much you’ve done for the universe? Dude, you’re more of an angel than any of those nerds!” 

He smiled warmly at her before looking down. “I can see why _you_ believe that, but I know I’ve done nothing for the universe except cause pain, for thousands of years. I’ve always known what I am, what I’ll always be. And it’s not very _heavenly_.”

“Don’t come at me with that monster thing again!” He hid his face from her and she let go of his hands to hold his cheek and make him look up at her. Who could give a fork about distance at such a moment? “I will never, _ever_ see you as a monster!” She stood and settled down next to him on the couch, folding her legs beneath her to face him, somehow managing not to let him go. “Wanna know ‘what you are’? _Who_ you are? You are this guy who’s always trying to be better, always trying to improve. What kind of monster can you be when you wouldn’t hurt a damn fly? You dropped everything and _literally_ risked your life to save a bunch of humans. You went from torturer to savior of humanity. That’s insane!”

“We haven’t saved humanity yet. And I’m not alive.”

She scooted even closer, trying not to laugh. “Shut up, dummy.” The hand on his shoulder began to caress his hair while the other touched his chest. They stared at each other as she kept trying to, once and for all, convince him of everything he actually was, how far he had come and how much he still had to give to the world. “You’re kind and passionate. Yeah, you’re this gigantic fire squid but, to me, you’re like a grown up kid who gets all excited about the things he likes. You would do anything to make your friends happy. Fork that, to make _anyone_ happy. You’re so supportive and such a good listener, such a good friend. You're _-_ Wait. You know what?”

Maybe she had been aiming at this the wrong way. A part of her knew she would never be able to make him believe he was not a monster because, at least by a couple of definitions, he technically was one. But that was the point: she couldn’t care less about that.

“Remember your very first attempt?” He opened his mouth and she rolled her eyes in anticipation. “I know you remember everything, it was a rhetorical question, ding dong. Just let me finish. Look-” She paused, gazing at him in silence for a moment. She searched, probing, the hands still folded on his lap and laced their fingers together while her other thumb stroked his jaw. She was practically glued to his side and had no plans of moving. “When I was working as your assistant, you basically called your mistake (which was me) a monster. And you were right. I mean, I was a real nightmare back then. The thing is, that day I told you there were ‘nice monsters’. And I was right, too. So, if you wanna get all technical and call yourself a monster because you’re this big, not-very-scary-but-tries squid, fine, call yourself a monster. Whine all you want. I don’t care.”

One hand came to rest on the space between his neck and his shoulders, almost shaking some sense into him. She fought the urge to sit on him but dared to drop her legs across his lap and snuggle him. Eleanor just wanted to be near him, and to assure him she would not have it any other way. “I don’t care what’s underneath this skin suit, even if you’re a cockroach yourself. I don’t care what your skin suit is, either. No matter what, you’re _Michael_ . Fire squid, silver fox, giant cat, tiny gorilla or shapeless blob. I _really_ don’t care. None of us do! So if I can’t get through that noodle of yours telling you, over and over again, that you’re _not_ a monster, well… then I’ll make sure you know you’re the nicest monster there is. The nicest, hottest, kindest and sweetest monster that ever existed…”

“C’mon, buddy. If you ended up liking your monster-” she concluded, pointing a finger at herself before turning it to poke his chest. “Then why wouldn't I like mine?”

Michael was speechless. He was just staring at her with damp eyes and she wondered if he wasn’t blinking to not let the tears fall. She grinned at him and he gave her a small, shy smile, that looked really forking cute under his blushed cheeks.

They were on the right track.

She had one more move down her sleeve, though. One that could show him that, not only she didn’t care about his ‘true form’, as he put it, but also that, this past year, he had become _so much more_ to her than just the nicest monster around.

If she pressed her lips against his, just once, he would know for sure she accepted him for who he was. Fork ‘accept’, she _wanted_ him, she- It didn’t matter if he pushed her off or thought it was gross ―although, she was quite convinced she could make him change his mind on that matter―, but she just wanted him to know.

“Michael, I _know_ who you are, _what_ you are, who you were and who you’ve become. And I- Michael, I-”

Looking at his eyes, softly combing her fingers through his hair, she was inching closer when she realized something.

_Fork me._

_This isn’t just a little crush._

She stopped.

_I can’t do it. I can’t do this to them._

_Not like this._

So Eleanor closed her arms around his neck and leaned closer to give his cheek one hard, lingering kiss, followed by another and another. Pressing her chest against his, crushing him with all the strength her arms could muster, she gave him a hug worth all the things she couldn’t tell him yet.

She shut her eyes and smiled. “We love you, man.”

That was as much as she would dare to admit out loud.

_Not yet._

It was okay. She could just recognize the rest to herself.

And when Chidi got back, she would talk to her men. She would tell them both the truth and hoped-

Hoped for who knows what? She just wanted them to know how much they meant to her.

But before that, doing the things she wanted to do or saying the things she wanted to say, would not be fair on either of them.

_I'll do the right thing._

_That's what these hot dorks deserve._

She had no idea how much time she spent there, holding him. Every once in a while, one of his hands released her for a second, only to go back and hug her again. The sniff he let out one of those times let her know he was most likely drying tears off his face, and she tightened her embrace around him. Part of her wanted to shed them with her own fingers or lips, but the one and only Eleanor Shellstrop was not known for her self-control and feared she would hit her quota with that.

“Look, man, I'm only happy you have this skin suit because I'm too small to hug something that's six thousand foot tall.”

He squeezed his arms around her and laughed. “You _really_ are tiny. But you know very well I would just carry you around in my pocket, like Chandler says.”

_I hope it's his back pocket, because he actually popped that booty._

_And it looks great._

"You know? Now that I think about it, hugging a fire squid would be pretty cool. I mean, it's still you, so it’d probably be a really tall teddy bear in the shape of a squid. A giant squid plushie, basically. A teethed, juiced plushie, the whole package." She fought the temptation of kissing his neck, breathing in the smell of his planet-dust cologne as she buried her face in his skin. “You’re warm, fire level warm, and you have a buttload of tentacles to grab things and hold people and- and-”

_Keep your mind out of the gutter, Shellstrop._

“I swear my tentacles are not as nice as you say. They're literally on fire. But thank you.”

She pulled back a little and met his eyes.

“I won’t go _anywhere_ without you. Got it?”

He stroked her face, smiling.

“Oh, Eleanor… Sometimes I feel like I'm already in my own Good Place.”

Feeling her stomach flutter at his words, she glanced down at his lips and decided to hug him a little bit longer. 

Distance could go fork itself up the butt. And based on the way he was holding her, they were, again, on the same page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wants to recreate the nachos Eleanor likes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LgzudBvmd08
> 
> I don't know why I struggled so much with this chapter but at last it's over. Next, we explore what's going on in Michael's brain!


	13. Understanding

Michael traced with a single finger the patterns of the blanket that rested on the couch. It was more interesting than looking at the roof and the movements helped him think.

“Humans… confuse me, sometimes. Most times, actually. I’m supposed to know everything about them, but they behave in ways that can be quite puzzling. I don’t understand the reasons why they do the things they do. When I had to torture them, that was infuriating. Then, it became fascinating. But now, it just gets more and more… frustrating. I guess part of it it’s because of the experiment. It’s very important that I understand these humans, but-”

He trailed off and looked up at Janet, who was sitting on a chair in front of him holding a notebook and a pen.

She raised a single eyebrow in his direction. “But it’s only ‘part’ of it.”

* * *

_Touching humans felt good. Really good. But it also felt... peculiar._

_He had gotten used to hugs by then. Tahani’s were the warmest and Jason's were the sweetest, but hers were definitely the tightest. Sometimes, even with those tiny arms she had, she was able to make it difficult for him to breathe, squeezing the air out of his body. That mostly occurred when she was scared or worried, which happened more and more often as that year progressed._

_But_ that _? That was different. It_ felt _different. Michael ran and pressed his hands through her shoulders and her back while trying to make sense of what he was doing. That was new. It was slow and silent. And strangely intense._

_Once he started, he realized he liked the sensation of her muscles on his fingers, and that he did not want to stop feeling it, that all he wanted was to keep touching her for as long as he could. So he did. He made sure she felt better and tried to postpone the moment he would have to step back._

_His throat was dry when he finished._

_It took him a moment to recognize she was grabbing his arm. He wondered if the touch of a human also felt good for a demon, but he wanted, more than anything, to know if he had actually helped her, if he had made her feel as good as he wished. And perhaps, to figure out if being touched was as- as_ thrilling? _as touching. He was not even sure if that was the right word._

_He also took a while to acknowledge her question._

What did she just say?

_“And what else is it telling you now?”_

_He hoped she would_ tell _him why she was keeping his hand there, at least. Was she trying to stop his hand from touching her again? He was not planning on doing that. He had already fixed her back. Or maybe… maybe she also wanted him to keep touching her. Maybe that was the reason she was keeping him this close._

Focus on the question, Mikey. Pay attention. Look away and answer.

_Why did she have to be so hard to read? Why couldn’t he tear himself away from her eyes?_

Focus.

Focus!

_He managed to make out the bare birth of regret on her throat before she looked down._

Did I do something wrong?

_There were no red spikes around her head, nor grey clouds crashing down on it. If she was not angry or sad, then what was the problem?_

Did I hurt her, somehow? 

_Please, let it be anything,_ anything _but that! It was the last thing he wanted to do. He would swear on every human Bible ever published, take one of those unbreakable bows from_ Harry Potter. _Anything,_ anything _to let her know he never meant to cause her any harm._

What did I do?

 _And all he was thinking about was how good_ he _felt? While she regretted this? How could he? What kind of monster would do that? He kept looking for the signs of sorrows or furies that_ should _have been circling her head, but he couldn't find them. Was his problem getting worse? Were his senses malfunctioning? Maybe now, not only was it incredibly challenging to concentrate enough to read her, but he was also unable to see anything in her at all. He stared at her head during a second that felt like hours, and it seemed like full Bearimies passed before he was left all alone with the puzzling burden of emotional enigmas floating around him._

_If they had just crossed, somehow, the dot of the i, then that certainly didn’t feel like nothing._

What was that?

_It frightened him, not understanding what he was feeling. He thought he had sorted out the emotions humans felt around their friends but this, all of this, had been different. Why did he feel the need to go after her and ask her what was happening inside of his essence? How could a skin suit feel too hot and too cold at once? Why did he want to touch her, look at her and keep listening to the slow but strong beating of her heart? She had always been… different from the rest. But what was that?_

_It didn’t matter._

_She was not feeling good about it. Whatever it was, she regretted it, so he had no right to keep digging into it._

_When he found her again and they talked, he managed to calm himself a little. Apparently, it was not a big deal. So what the fork was happening to him? It was a relief to hear he had not hurt her, but that was only one of his current concerns. What about it made her upset?_

_Michael dared to confess to her his unease, his confusion._

_“I had this feeling I’d never felt before and I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t know what to call it, either.”_

_He felt the bitter oil on his hands before even a glimpse of black painted her lips._

_Since when was she_ scared _of him?_

What did I do to her?

_Was she really just… stressed? Where was that anger she kept telling him she felt?_

_Part of him knew she was lying to him, that she just kept coming up with different excuses, but maybe she didn’t know what to make of that moment either. So when she started to act as if nothing had ever happened, he decided to do the same. He tried not to touch her as much as he was used to, fearing that need to keep doing it would manifest itself again. Or, Upper Management forbid, doing something she would regret._

_Her feet were cold that night._

_Michael went for a stroll through the neighborhood when she went to bed. He needed to do something to stop thinking so much. He designed a whole new forest behind Tahani’s mansion, along with a small stream and a flowered path that ended at the edge of a mountain. His friends would like it._

_She was as warm as ever around him after that, and nothing between them really changed._

_Sometimes the memory of the way she was breathing that night surprised him. Other times, the one of those little mountains that formed on her skin. He tried, hard, to focus on whatever his current task was and to push her away from his mind, wondering if it was normal to think so often about someone as he did with her. That was not new, he always had. But now, he was plagued by questions no one could answer him. And he didn’t want to ask her again._

_Something about it all seemed almost wrong because of that note of regret that never left his mind. He didn’t even tell Janet about it. He could not shake the feeling of-_

_Of something that felt different. That was it. He could not put it any other way._

_Different, confusing and wrong. And yet, he could not wait to have the chance of feeling it again._

* * *

He slumped his shoulders and shook his head, giving in. “She’s frustrating. She’s _so_ hard to understand. I’ve always known humans could be unpredictable, but I’m living with the most unpredictable human I’ve ever met. And I’ve tortured Diogenes himself!”

He frowned at his own words. _I think I’m spending too much time with Tahani._

* * *

_He was staring at her as she used every limb of her body to hold him, each one of her fingers grazing a part of his skin suit and all of her words caressing his essence._

_He had missed touching her._

_Watching humans also felt good. Was that what being beautiful meant? Just… wanting to look at someone? He didn’t see the point to it, it wasn’t something easy to understand. If anything, it was incredibly shallow. And a complete waste of time. But he liked looking at her face, especially when she was smiling at him like that. It almost felt like her eyes were another source of support for him._

_That was what he tried to explain to her once. He didn’t care the way she looked, not really. But he became capable of admiring the effects the world had on her appearance. Her hands reached out for things nearby when she was bored and her brows creased when she was thinking. Her hair looked silkier in the mornings and her skin felt softer during the nights. But perhaps that last part was just the silence. She licked her lips when she needed a second before speaking and crossed her legs when Chidi walked into a room._

_And now, her eyes were shining so much he couldn’t look at anything else._

_“I won’t go_ anywhere _without you. Got it?”_

_With a best friend like that, what could he possibly expect from Heaven?_

* * *

“So what you find frustrating is your inability to predict her actions. In a way, your ability... to control them.”

His palm hit his forehead. “Oh, fork, she was right. I’m obsessed with control.”

“Let’s not rush into those kinds of assumptions, Michael. Let’s take this step by step. Are you able to control her actions? Do you have the ability to do that?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then what _are_ you trying to control? What is the source of your frustrations?”

“I- I don’t know. I can’t read her. I can’t even see her aura unless I’m trying really hard to focus on it. I’m supposed to be this superior being, I’m supposed to have a particular set of abilities that let me know the way humans feel, but I look at her and I’m… helpless. I can’t see anything around her because I can’t even tear my eyes away from hers. And that’s incredibly frustrating because it makes me feel all…” He paused. “Small and- and vulnerable.”

His friend ―no, his _therapist_. She insisted on drawing that line― held up her notes, intrigued. “Small, vulnerable, helpless… Those are strong words, Michael. Strong but not strange. I’ve heard you mention those words before. Do you remember for whom have you used them?”

He let out a light snort and scratched his head. “Humans.”

Janet nodded and stayed silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“So, what makes me feel frustrated is actually what makes me a little bit more human? Well, that’s ironic.”

* * *

_Michael looked up when the bathroom door opened and she came out in fresh clothes and still damp hair, the smell of peaches filling the living room. Resting his head on one fist, his eyes followed her as she dabbed her head with a towel._

_“You have a beautiful voice, you know? At least, when you’re not yelling into a karaoke machine.”_

_She grinned and walked around the couch where he was sitting. Out of instinct, he closed the notebook on his lap before she got to stand behind him._

_“You trying to get me to sing one of those songs of yours?”_

_He tilted his neck back to look up at her and shook his head, smiling back. “Oh, no. I don’t share these. I don’t like to.”_

_“You kidding?! You designed this entire universe, every forking blade of grass and all, and you won’t show me some lyrics?” She placed her hands on his headrest and pouted._

_“It’s different! They’re… personal.”_

_“And I’m your best friend! You don’t wanna show them, fine. I respect your privacy. But you_ do _know everything about my life. How’s that even?”_

_He didn’t need to glance at her chest to see she was in a really good mood today. Her eyes were smiling, bright and barely creased, a prolongation of her actual, incredibly broad smile. When he finally managed to tear himself away from her gaze, that was what he looked for. He loved seeing her this happy. That was why he loved watching her smiles. And now, she was beaming._

_He forgot what she was saying._

She said something about her life, I think. 

_“Speaking of your life, how much of your drum lessons from seventh grade do you remember? I was thinking, maybe we could form a band together.”_

_Her hand slapped his shoulder. “Don’t change the subject, you butthead! But I don’t remember shirt. And to sing with you I kinda need to see those songs.”_

_“Look, when I have the confidence to share them, you’ll be the first to hear one. Happy?”_

_“Sort of.” The way she raised her chin at him told him it was more than that. “I’ll be happier if you write one for me.”_

_When he opened his mouth to answer, some drops of water fell on his face, making him flinch slightly._

_“Oops. Sorry, bud.” She shed them with a stroke of her thumb, keeping her hand there for a moment as she stared at him from above._

_He was still smiling. “What?”_

_She took a quick step back and walked away, laughing a little. “Nothing! I’ll be waiting for those lyrics!”_

_“I’ll begin working on them now!”_

_Although, now that he thought about it, maybe some older ones were already about her, in a way._

* * *

Janet stared at her notes, frowning a little. “I don’t think it’s innocent that you relate these abilities to the things you ‘should’ or are ‘supposed to’ do. Especially when not doing them brings you closer to humanity, which has been a topic we’ve discussed at length in our time together. You’re supposed to ‘be a superior being’, you’re supposed to have a set of particular ‘abilities’. You’re supposed to, in a few words, be different from humans. And you’re experiencing something that leads you in the opposite direction. It wouldn’t be the first time you choose a different path than the one you’re _supposed_ to follow. Why does this, in particular, bother you?”

“Because if I can’t see how she feels, I can’t control it.”

“Control what she feels? What she does?”

“No, no. I can’t do that, I guess. So, control... what I do and-”

He didn’t finish, but Janet knew there had to be something more hidden in the back of his mind. “And?”

“And I guess what _I_ feel, as well.”

“Why do you feel the need to control your feelings based on hers?”

“Because I don’t wanna risk it. I don’t want to do something that might ruin things for me. I’m not human and I don’t understand things as well as they do. Based on the events of their lives or their reactions to the things I say or do, I can understand some of what humans expect of me. And that means I can manage my own actions or my words. If I can’t see what she’s feeling, I don’t really _know_ what to do.”

Janet crossed her legs and pointed her pen at him. “Why can’t you read her, Michael?”

“Wel, she’s hard to read. I’ve told you that. I’m just staring at her and I can’t focus. And even when I do, I can’t see much around her. If I think she’s sad or angry or upset, I look for those signs and they’re not there. We’re in situations where I feel like she should be feeling those things and they’re just... not there.”

“What are you looking for, when you’re trying to read her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re telling me ‘she’s not feeling this’, ‘she’s not feeling that’. What _is_ she feeling?”

Michael was beginning to lose his patience. Couldn’t she understand he was unable to read her? She was the most advanced being in the universe, for Doug’s sake! It was not that hard. 

“I don’t know! She’s hard to read!”

“Why did you mention sadness and anger as your examples? Why didn’t you mention joy, excitement, compassion or love?” Her tone slowed down after that, a brief pause separating each of the words she pronounced. “ _What_ are you looking for when you read her?”

He shook his head, frustrated and confused. “I really don’t understand where you’re going with this, Janet.”

She rested her elbows on her knees, leaning closer, and fixed her eyes on Michael’s. “You’re telling me you have trouble focusing when you want to read her. You’re telling me the things she’s not feeling: she’s not in pain, she’s not angry. Do you think yourself incapable of provoking other types of emotions in humans, enough to not even look for them when you’re in front of her? You keep looking for things you already know aren’t there. And by doing that, you’re missing the chance to see what’s right in front of you. You’re denying yourself the possibility to know. And that doesn’t just mean you’re distrusting your powers. You’re also distrusting her own emotions, trying to force the things you, and I quote, ‘feel like she should be feeling’.” She paused, folding her hands on top of her notes. “Too much attention to detail can make you lose sight of the bigger picture.”

He opened his mouth at that and Janet tilted her head at him. 

“Nothing, it’s just- it’s not the first time I hear that.”

She couldn’t conceal a small smile. “I know. I’ll ask you again: why can’t you read her, Michael?”

“It turns out, it’s not that she’s hard to read. I’m just a very sucky reader. I’m not really _looking_ when I look at her.” For some reason he didn’t fully understand, he started laughing at that. The not-a-woman in front of him obviously took notice of that, and narrowed her eyes at him before writing down something.

“And does _that_ frustrate you?”

“Not as much. It’s almost funny. And I guess it’s pretty human, after all. Not knowing.”

* * *

_Michael walked into a disastrous living room to find her clipping her toenails on the coffee table. After calling her name, she raised her head to look at him._

_“Hey, bud. Everything alright?”_

_He pointed at her stuff, already tired. “What are you doing?”_

_“What? Demons can grow a beard but no nails? That’s weird.”_

_“I meant why are you doing this here, in our living room?”_

_She laughed and grabbed a nail file. “There’s better light here. C’mon, bro, we have enough classy posh shirt with Tahani. No need to throw immortal being etiquette into the mix.”_

_He waved the mess off and made her pedicure set disappear as well._

_“Dude!”_

_“Do that in the bathroom or in your own room. If you were on Earth, that’s a solid 40 points for each nail you clip in public. The rest of the group is on their way here and we can’t host dinner with this chaos around. Damn it, I swear humans can be so disgusting sometimes!”_

_When she stood and passed by his side without a witty comeback, seeming almost smaller than usual, Michael tried to pinpoint the moment the smile fell off her face._

_“Hey, wait. Is something wrong? I didn’t know-”_

_She didn’t even turn around to answer him. “It’s fine, Michael. Nothing you need to worry about.”_

_It wasn’t the first he complained about her habits around the house (that happened quite often, in fact), so he couldn’t understand why this time it bothered her._

_He was practically chasing her through the house after their friends left. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I truly don’t know what I did, but you know the last thing I want to do is upset you. I’m sorry!”_

_She smiled, but he knew her enough to know it was not entirely genuine. The fact that she was avoiding his eyes had an advantage: he could finally look at her aura. A brief glance at her chest confirmed it: no joy._

_She began to walk to the kitchen but he went after her. “For the tenth time, I’m perfectly fine, Michael. You didn’t_ do _anything!”_

_“I- I feel like that’s not true, somehow.”_

_Her hands were fidgeting as she tried to find something to do. When he saw her approaching the sink, he snapped all the dishes clean and slid between her and the counter. She crossed her arms and took a step back, mumbling under her breath._

_“You complain I don’t do things, but you don’t let me do things, either. Or are humans too gross to clean, too?”_

_He pointed a finger at her. “Hah! You’re not fine.”_

_She rolled her eyes and walked away from him, but his steps were long enough to catch up with her. “I’m fine! Stop being annoying!”_

_“I don’t mind that you don’t do things. I’m just messing with you, you know that.”_

_“That’s not the problem, man!”_

_He held her wrist on the handrail when she was two steps up towards her room. “Then tell me what it is.”_

_She stopped and finally turned to meet his eyes. Her lips parted as she stared at him in silence for a moment before looking away._

_“It’s really stupid.”_

_“It’s not stupid if it bothers you. Not to me.”_

_She smiled at that, a real smile at last, still glancing at the distance._

_“I know we're… different. And I know what you think of humans. But none of us think you're gross for being a fire squid, you're the only one who does. And I would never say anything about that, either. I just think it's fair I- I mean,_ we _get the same treatment. We're cockroaches? Fine, I already know that. But I guess I don't like hearing it.”_

_“Oh, I don't think you're cockroaches! That was the old me. C'mon, you know how much I love humans!”_

_She glanced down at her shoes. “Yeah, right.”_

_He rested his chin on the handrail, searching for her eyes, as his fingers stroked her wrist. “Hey!” His tone was soft and warm, and it finally got her to look up. “You know perfectly well you're my favorite human. Maybe even my favorite being in the universe. Well, tied with Korzoff, if I'm being honest.”_

_She giggled and narrowed her eyes at him. “Even if I'm a little gross?”_

_He dismissed her, puffing. “You're not gross! How could you be? Two or three habits of yours might be a bit gross, yes, but not_ you _. No. Not at all.”_

_She licked her lips and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. Michael became suddenly aware of the way her fingers were grabbing his collar, her hair was tickling his neck and her chest was pressing against his._

_“Well, don't knock it till you try it, Mikey. Maybe one day you’ll find out some human habits are not as gross as you might think.”_

_That unnamed feeling was back. It tightened his stomach and dried his mouth, as he felt the urge to scratch an itch that didn't exist and to keep her right where she was standing. The sound of her voice almost made him close his eyes and he had to fight the need to touch her. Her arm, her back, her hair,_ anything _. He wanted to just stretch out his free hand and meet skin or muscle, but he was terrified of making her upset again, so he didn't._

But I don't want the feeling to go away, either.

_Michael swallowed. "Wh- what do you mean?"_

_She took a step back, smirking, and crossed her arms. He blinked a couple of times, finally exhaling._

Why does she look so... smug?

_“I don't know. Clip your toenails in the living room, see how it feels. And let me know if you come up with anything else.”_

_He frowned. “Uhm- Like digging your own ears?”_

_“What? No! That's gross!”_

_“But you said-”_

_“Ugh, nevermind.” She laughed and lightly punched his shoulder before making her way upstairs. “Night, Michael.”_

* * *

“Maybe… you don’t _want_ to read her.”

He shook his head, rushing to answer. “No, that’s insane. I’ve told you it frustrates me. Well, I know I just said it doesn’t, but I didn’t mean it like that. It doesn’t frustrate me to know it’s my fault. It frustrates me that she’s confusing.”

“But you find her confusing because you can’t read her. Are you choosing not to do it?”

“No! Of course I’m not. I- Well, I think I don’t. I- I don’t know.”

“It’s interesting how you describe this. ‘Not knowing’... ‘You’re supposed to’ know everything about humans, ‘you’re supposed to’ be a superior being. And yet, it seems like you’re deciding not to know, not to do what you’re supposed to do. You’re deciding not to use something that puts you in a position of power over her.”

* * *

_The few margaritas she'd had throughout the evening had made her a little tipsy. She poked his chest and narrowed her eyes at him before dropping her body next to him on one of Tahani's couches._

_“Can I ask you a question, buddy?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Just_ how _giant is that giant ball of tongues?” Her arms slowly stretched out as her hands formed an increasingly bigger circle in the air. “Just say when.”_

_Michael raised a single eyebrow in her direction. “Excuse me?”_

_“The demon stage of growth. The part with the tongues. Like, is it a gigantic ball made of a whole bunch of normal sized tongues or does it only have, like, a few tongues, but bigger? And what do you mean by ‘giant’? Giant as in six foot tall or more like... six thousand?”_

_His jaw dropped as he stared at her. After a moment, he began to laugh. “Wow… Your brain is- It’s truly something.”_

_When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, she frowned at him. “You’re not gonna answer me?!”_

_“Of course I’m not. No way.”_

_She crossed her arms and he kept laughing. “C’mon, you tell me everything! You promised you would never hide things from me again.”_

_“Hey, you can’t play that card here!”_

_“You’re right. Low blow.” She turned to her side to face him. “Can I ask you another, totally,_ totally _unrelated question?”_

_“Okay.”_

_“After we die, you don’t have files on us, right? Like the things we do or say or, I don’t know, hypothetically, our… dreams?” Her eyes were fixed on her nails and she spoke in a tone that only pretended to be nonchalant._

_That drew his attention. “Of course I don’t. Why?”_

_“No reason. Just checking. I’ll go get another drink.” She stood and left after that, so he had no choice but to swallow his own questions. He caught Janet trying not to laugh a few seats away from him and only ended up more confused than before._

* * *

“You’re deciding to do something that makes you a little more human.” Janet paused and tilted her head at him. “Do you aspire to be her equal, Michael?”

“I can’t be her equal.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“But it’s the truth, damn it! I know I’m not human and I know I’ll never be one, no matter how many little games let me pretend I am. I haven’t led the lives they had, I haven’t had the same experiences. And I know there are things I’ll never get to feel or do, I know there are things I’ll _never_ understand, no matter how much I ask or research or know.” His fist hit the couch and he sighed, resting his head on his hands. “That’s what frustrates me! That’s what I can’t forking stand! And that’s what you wanted to know. There it is.”

* * *

_He didn’t hear her climbing up the staircase and just noticed she reached its top when she called his name._

_“Hey, Michael? Sorry. Is it okay if I come in?”_

_He paused the movie and turned to look at her, puzzled. “Of course! Why wouldn’t it? Come sit down, I’m watching_ When Harry Met Sally _.”_

 _She sighed and placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, I get it now! It’s the scene at the diner, right? I heard the screams when I walked into the office, dude. I got_ very _confused.” Only then she dared to walk into the living room and settled beside him on the couch._

_He pointed a hand at the screen. “This is insane. It almost sounds like torture.”_

_She snatched the popcorn from his hands and laughed. “It’s not. When it’s real, I mean.”_

_Michael placed one arm on the back of the couch and turned to face her. “But does it seriously sound like that? Or is it because she’s pretending?”_

_She just stared at the TV, even though the movie was still paused, and scratched her arm. “Well… it depends.”_

_“On what?”_

_She rubbed her eyelids, laughing lightly. “Damn it, Michael. Look- for starters, if there’s people nearby, you can’t just do_ that _.” She pointed at the frozen Meg Ryan and finally met his eyes. “But it’s also about the person- no, the_ being- _well, whoever is, uhm, giving it to you. Not_ you _you, I mean- you know. And other things, like what you’re doing or how long you’ve been- uh-”_

_She abruptly looked down and cleared her throat. “You know what? It’s getting late and I should hit the sack. I’m just really tired by now. Long day, really long day.” She sprinted up from the couch. “I’ve watched this movie already, so you can finish- I mean, watch the ending by yourself. Bye!”_

_When he answered, she had already turned his back on him. “Okay, bye. Are you alright?”_

_“Yep! Never better!”_

_He actually enjoyed the movie a lot. It might have been the only human rom-com not based on terrible communication skills and incredibly convenient traffic jams. And he liked the fact that those two became really good friends before deciding to mash food holes._

* * *

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I just wish I could be one of them. Maybe that could make things easier. If I were like them, I could- maybe I could understand how all of this works.”

“What’s ‘all of this’?”

“If I were human, I could understand humans better. I could understand our friends better. We’re different beings. And I know that will always be true. I won’t ever be on the same level and that- it hurts me to know that. Because I feel like I miss things because of that. It _pains_ me to know I’ll never be the same, even if she tries to make me feel good about it.”

“And do you think that means she tries to understand you, too?”

“I do. I think she tries.”

* * *

_The moment the first couple of tears began to fall from his eyes, she scooted closer and held his cheeks to shed them away._

_“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry with this!”_

_“No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting a movie about a giant gorilla would make me cry, that’s all.” He tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at her. “Oh, you’re crying, too.”_

_“Yeah, I don’t know. When I suggested_ King Kong _, I was kinda expecting an action movie about fights with T-Rexes and giant bugs. I mean, Jack Black’s in it, I never imagined… this.”_

_He watched her dry her own tears with her sleeve and ran a hand through her hair._

_She giggled and threw an arm around his neck. “Who would’ve guessed? A demon and a dead trashbag bawling their eyes out over a movie.”_

_“Let’s not start talking about the bizarre aspects of our existences because I don’t think we would ever finish.”_

_They fell silent and he sighed, continuing to watch the movie. Something about it made him feel deeply sad, but also... hopeful. It was a strange mixture of emotions and he couldn’t really understand how both things coexisted in his essence. Michael let out a shaky breath and sniffed as more tears fell down his face._

_“Come here, buddy.” She pulled him down by the neck until his head ended up resting on her shoulder. He dropped his bare feet on top of the coffee table and rested his body against her side. Her arms closed around his middle and her fingers began to draw little circles on his shirt._

_Being touched by a human also felt good. Really, really good._

_When he felt her breath lightly blowing over his hair, he briefly looked up at her._

_She was… she was so_ special _to him._

_She would probably understand what he was feeling, and that was why she was holding him like that. Or maybe, she was feeling something similar herself. As he wondered that, he let one of his own hands hold hers and placed the other one on her knee. Luckily, she didn’t seem upset by that._

_He swallowed. “You remind me of Ann.”_

_She tightened her embrace around him and dropped her chin on the top of his head._

_Sometimes, he tried to explain to himself just how special she was to him. And for some strange reason, all of this felt like one piece of that puzzle._

* * *

“Is it important to you that she tries to understand you?”

He took a moment to answer. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He didn’t want to tell her the real answer. He could _not_ say it out loud. He told himself he wouldn't.

“Because- I guess because it means she- even if she knows I can’t be her equal, I still- I’m still her… friend.”

“And how is being a friend different from being an equal?”

He shrugged. “It’s different, I don’t know. You can be friends with someone who’s not your equal.”

“But you aspire to be her equal.” This time, it wasn’t a question.

“I told you already, I can’t be her equal.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

He knew it was not true, it could not be true. So he didn’t even answer. He just clenched his jaw and looked away.

Janet’s eyes followed him. “That is the source of your frustrations.”

He nodded, staring at the window.

“Why is this important to you?”

“Damn it, I don’t know why she’s-!” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know why _that’s_ important to me.”

_Fork._

_Stupid slips._

She raised an eyebrow at him and he clicked his tongue.

“I’ve read Freud’s books before torturing him. I know what I just did, Janet. I heard myself.”

“That’s the point of these exercises, Michael.”

He sighed and met the not-a-woman’s eyes. No one spoke for a moment.

Janet gave him a half-smile and he instantly knew she was right about to hit him with something. Based on his previous experiences around her, it would hurt, but it would work.

It would help him find an answer. And, since last night, he was in desperate need of one.

She nodded before speaking, holding his gaze. “You can say her name, Michael.”

He frowned, startled. He rarely anticipated the things she was going to tell him, but this one truly surprised him. “You already know her name.”

“This is not about the things I know. This is about the things you say almost as much as it is about the things you do _not_ say.” She paused, looking down at her notes. “You rarely mention her name in our sessions. And today, you haven’t pronounced it even once.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is. You can say her name if you need to, Michael.”

He snorted. “Fine. I know I can say her name. You know her name, I know her name. Practically the entire afterlife system knows her name... This sounds stupid.”

She didn’t react and waited for him to continue.

Michael opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out of it.

_What the fork?_

_Why can’t I say it?_

_I say it all the time. I’ve been saying it everyday for hundreds of years._

_I-_

_Am I taking too long?_

_Why can’t I say it?_

_Why?_

_Who am I kidding?_

_I already know why._

“Eleanor.” He swallowed and dropped his head on the headrest, taking one deep breath after another. “Her name is Eleanor.”

He didn’t tell Janet he felt a deep and heavy burden being lifted off of his shoulders after rolling the word on his tongue, nor that he had the sudden and terrible need to cry. She would notice either way.

_Stupid Lacan._

“Why is Eleanor important to you, Michael?”

* * *

_They had spent the evening messing around at the game room. For some reason, this time he had_ crushed _Eleanor on the bowling alley, right after they sung their lungs out with karaoke. It was a good thing the room was soundproof, or the residents might have wondered what the fork was going on at the Architect's office._

_He always checked the claw machine when they hung out there, studying the various objects Janet placed in it each day. The algorithm used to do that was entirely random, and she had to make a few adjustments when a giant stuffed polar bear once threatened to crack the glass of the box. This time, he stood in front of it and just stayed there, watching it intently, while she got them sodas and french fries._

_“Found anything cool?” By the way her voice sounded, her mouth was already full of food. She offered him the plate and he took a single fry without tearing his eyes away from the machine. After a couple of seconds, based on the shift in her posture, he realized she spotted it. A small stuffed octopus, of fluffy orange and red fur and topped with a tiny Christmas hat, was squeezed between a blue whale and a zebra._

_“Aww, a stuffed fire squid, just like I told you! That’s cute.”_

_He snorted, feeling his cheeks warm up. “It’s certainly cuter than I- than my true_ _form.”_

_She nudged him with her elbow, teasing. “I don’t know about that, buddy.”_

_Michael gave her a light laugh, still staring at the thing._

“...then I’ll make sure you know you’re the nicest monster there is. The nicest, hottest, kindest and sweetest monster that ever existed.”

_Eleanor was so special..._

_That conversation had not left his mind in the past weeks, and he was still thinking about that movie they'd watched a few days ago._

_Why was she so special?_

_She bumped his side. “It’s a little you. Just as cute and all.”_

_He smiled and stayed silent for a moment before straightening and shrugging. “Too bad it’s too crumpled up in there.”_

_He began to walk out of the arcade, only turning around when he noticed she wasn't following._

_“Eleanor? Are you coming?”_

_She tore her eyes away from the machine and suddenly looked at him. “Actually, do you mind if I stay here a little longer? I've watched Monsters Inc. already.” He saw her glance around the room for a moment. “And I- I kinda wanna try that Pac-Man thing, see what the fuzz's all about. You go ahead. I’ll meet you in a little while.”_

_"Sure, no problem."_

_But the movie ended and she never came out of there._

_"Hey, Eleanor, want some ice cream?"_

_She didn't answer._

_"C'mon, it's not a slumber party if it's just me!"_

_The blunt sound of something being hit against metal almost made him throw the pit to the floor._

_"Eleanor?"_

_He walked back to the arcade and found her kicking the base of the claw machine, replicating the sound that had just startled him, as she let out a frustrated curse._

_“Eleanor? What are you doing?”_

_She sharply turned around to face him. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“It's practically the middle of the night. Why are you still here?”_

_She hesitated for a couple of seconds, pointing at the glass box, and massaged her temples. “I wanna get that stupid squid out.“ She paused, giving it a lighter kick. “I just wanted to give you something for your collection before- you know…”_

_He smiled at her, feeling touched. "I appreciate it, but you don't have to do that. I doubt you'll get much sleep tomorrow. You need to rest."_

_She rubbed her eyelids. “I’m not tired.”_

_He snorted. "Of course you aren't. Want me to put that thing on 'easy mode'?"_

_"No! I can do this, Michael."_

_"Well, then try tomorrow." He stepped closer, shrugging._

_"You know it won't be here tomorrow!"_

_"Yeah, but we can have Janet make another just like that one."_

_She shook her head vigorously. "No! I'm telling you, I'm gonna get_ this _one out! Just- just lay off, dude."_

_He sighed, brushing her forearm as she stifled a yawn. "Eleanor, why are you doing this?"_

_She groaned and mumbled something in response he couldn’t understand._

_“I’m sorry, what did you say?”_

_"That I know it's not the same!" She paused and lowered her voice to its regular tone. "If I asked Janet for it or just broke the glass to take the damn thing out, yeah, it’s the same forking plushie. But it doesn’t mean as much_ to you _as taking it out the actual ‘human’ way. I understand that. So just- just let me keep trying, okay?”_

Oh.

_His hand went to his chest._

Oh, wow.

That's it.

_She turned her head to the side and stared at him for a moment under the dim lights of the arcade. Her eyes looked heavy and she blinked hard a couple of times before returning to her struggles with the claw._

Hey, that's it.

_Michael felt- he felt something strange. Something he thought he would never have the chance to feel. But that, in a way, was incredibly familiar. The postponed baptism of an emotion that had lived inside of him for ages or the recognition of a long lost and much missed relative._

I solved it.

_Somehow, he managed to let out enough air to say a few words, surely still grinning like an idiot. “Okay. I’ll go get us some coffee, then.”_

_He stood by her side after that, softly stroking her shoulder. To keep trying, just like she said. He was looking at her and all he wanted was- Well, he wanted a lot of things. But he knew he could never have them, so he just stroked her shoulder, smiling._

_After a while, he pretended to cough and snapped his fingers to drop the level of the claw machine. He was quite sure she never noticed, but he knew she would tell him, one day, if she didn't._

_She finally got it out._

_She was so happy… Awake, all of the sudden, and obviously bragging. She launched herself into his arms, locking her hands around his neck, and he grabbed her, lifting her up a few inches, just for a moment. That made her giggle. He didn't care as much about the plushie as he did about being there with her, and having the chance to hold her close to him._

_Oh, to hold her close… The memory was enough to make him sigh._

_He slowly dropped her on the floor and pulled back a little, keeping his arms around her. Eleanor kept one hand on his neck and traced his jawline with the other, looking at him._

_He was surely staring at her like a fool._

She's so special to me...

_Then, she snatched his hand and dragged him out of the arcade, cursing the machine and claiming no one could ever defeat them before settling down on the mattress. He could only follow her._

_He would follow her through the IHOP if he had to._

_Propped up on one of his elbows, he watched Eleanor as she dramatically handed him the gift. Now he knew that ugly yellow toddler she gave him once was in third place for the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on._

_She told him the hottest fire squid deserved the cutest stuffed squid._

_He would never tell her it was actually an octopus._

_Michael reached out to her and ran a few fingers down her arm. He didn't say anything. If he did, he feared he would let out the words he knew he should not tell her, so he just laughed._

_Eleanor draped the covers over the both of them and began to ask him what was next for their Ultimate Slumber Party, but got cut off by her own yawn._

_"You need to sleep."_

_Almost unwillingly, in a moment where he could not distinguish what he was thinking from what he was doing, Michael opened up his arms for her. The moment he realized that and was about to stand back, she smiled warmly at him and settled down on his chest, sighing. Her hands clutched his shirt while his fingers combed her hair and softly brushed the space between her shoulder blades._

_She fell asleep there._

_When she started snoring, he wondered if he should tell her. His newest discovery, the most human thing he had ever felt._

Hey, guess what? I just solved the puzzle.

_She wouldn't hear it, so technically he could say it out loud. But he didn't. He just kept holding her, all night long, and he confessed it to himself, over and over again. It was deeply sad, but also… hopeful. Just like that movie. And it was so beautiful he felt the need to keep thinking about it. He had caused so much pain in the past that he wondered if saying it would balance out some of that. It probably didn't make a lot of sense, but it seemed like a nice idea._

_He couldn't stop smiling._

_He couldn't stop tearing up, either._

_And when Eleanor woke up, she had this look in her eyes… It almost, almost made him truly hopeful. Almost. She smiled at him and sat up on the mattress. He watched the way her back tensed when she stirred and felt a beat on his chest._

Fork, that's what being gorgeous looks like.

 _Was that mysterious, unnamed and confusing feeling, that overwhelming urge to do_ something _, related to his latest epiphany?_

_He suspected it was._

_She turned to look at him and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "What time is it? I feel like it's super late, but I'm still tired."_

_"Maybe because you went to sleep 'super' late last night. But it's not late."_

_"Do the Architects have any early commitments today?"_

_"Nope."_

_She dropped herself back on the mattress, facing him. "Then I guess I'll sleep in today." One of her fingers reached out to touch his shoulder. "What about you?"_

_He shrugged, staring right at her. "I can just rest here a little bit longer."_

_She smirked and turned his back on him. He didn't even have time to think he missed her presence, because she reached out for his hand, grabbed it and placed it on her stomach, moving closer. Her cold feet found his warm ones after he settled on his side, right behind her. He smiled and, not without hesitation, dared to place a kiss on the top of her head._

_“Hey, Michael?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I'm really gonna miss living with you.”_

_His fingers softly stroked her t-shirt. “Oh, Eleanor… You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you.”_

_Closing his eyes, he wondered if being unable to sleep was a good or a bad thing right now. He wished he could actually share this moment with her, but at least, this way, he could consciously appreciate it._

_And it seemed like the perfect way to spend their last night alone in that place._

_So the ice cream just kept melting on top of the counter._

* * *

“Because… because I-” He closed his eyes and swallowed, trailing off as he tried not to let tears run down his face.

He knew she would let him take his time.

“I understood last night, Janet. I solved the puzzle.” He made a long pause, letting out an incredibly sad and shaky laugh.

“...You asked me if I think she tries to understand. She does, she really does. And that means _so_ much to me. That makes me feel like I matter, even if it’s not the same. And you asked me why I don’t look for other things when I read her. You asked me why I _decide_ not to read her. Because you’re right, I choose not to.”

He nodded and, at that moment, he couldn’t help but start crying.

“I don’t want to read her because I know I’m not gonna see what I wish I could see. I guess a part of me has always known, even if I’ve spent centuries denying it… Not understanding it. I understand now. And I know there’s nothing there. I know she could never see me the way I see her, she could never feel-” His hand went to his chest. “This… Not for me.”

He took a deep breath and sniffed. “But I guess it’s different. It’s different knowing than _actually_ knowing, than actually seeing there’s _nothing_ there. If I look at her aura when she’s looking at me, it means I’m hoping for something. And I cannot allow myself to hope. So I think I prefer to hold on to the way she looks at me. Because seeking for something and finding out what I already know... it would kill me.”

He managed a small, smitten smile. “You should see the way she looks at me, Janet… That’s why I don’t read her. I prefer to stay there, staring at her eyes. I prefer to hold on to the most beautiful kind of uncertainty.”

He sobbed once and massaged his neck, feelings hundreds of words still jammed in there. “Janet, you know literally everything in the entire universe. And you certainly know more about- about _this_ than I do…” He blinked a few tears away and dared to look at her. He caught the glimpse of emotion on her eyes and realized the lines she drew were not just for him. He knew her enough to realize she wanted to reach out and cry with him.

Fork, he needed a different therapist.

Michael looked at the roof and closed his eyes again, feeling terribly nervous and weak. “Can you- can you tell me-?” He had to pause and clear his throat. “Can you tell me what you feel when you’re with Jason?” And then, he could not avoid the way his voice broke in a million pieces, guessing the same thing would happen to his heart, if he had one. “Can you tell me what it’s like to be loved back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Big thanks to Rose for giving me the idea of these two watching King Kong. My original plan was to recreate the scene where Joey and Rachel watch Kujo because I know you wanted to see that, babe, but we love making Michael cry in this club. And also big thanks to both her and Katoska for giving me a bunch of recommendations that didn't end up "making the cut" but are now on my to-watch list <3
> 
> \- I only did like six months of therapy so it might not be the most accurate representation of it. I based most things on my personal experience with it.
> 
> \- Saying Eleanor "got cold feet" the night of the massage is almost funny and kind of poetic. I only realized that in my last revision of this chapter.


	14. Doomed

Eleanor deserved a forking award or something. She could not understand how she was managing to keep herself together. Yeah, she had that stupid ‘little voice’ in her head telling her to do good, ethical and _boring_ things; but she had another voice, as well.

And that voice was so much more forking fun.

_Tell him what you want to do to him._

No!

_Kiss him._

No.

_Tell him about that dream you had the other night. Tell him what you did when you woke up all sweaty, hot and bothered._

Damn it, no!

Wait- the one with the frozen yogurt or the puppet centaur?

… That’s not important.

_Tell him you can show him how an actual orgasm sounds like._

Holy shirt, brain! Just stop.

_Then just tell him how you really feel!_

If only she could do that... But it was not the time. She just needed to have a little bit of patience.

She kind of had herself to blame for her frustration, though. C’mon, cuddling and then spooning with the guy had not precisely been the smartest move, but it was their last night together and she wanted to make the most of it. And even if she was not planning on doing anything, she still wanted to be close to him.

Ugh, feelings made her such a huge nerd.

So she barely got any actual sleep and spent hours thinking how completely and utterly _wrong_ it would be to lean in and finally kiss him, to move his hand where she wanted it or to straddle his lap and breathe out those words she had been dying to let him know. The fact that Michael’s fingers kept moving around her stomach was _not_ helping. And neither was being unable to forget that, only sliding a little bit farther behind, she could easily tell if he wanted her, too.

She _began_ thinking how wrong it would have been, but her mind got easily off tracks and she mostly just _thought_ about those things. So she didn’t sleep much. The good thing was not needing to deal with dreams she didn’t want to explain.

Well, she _did_ , but she couldn’t. And the prospect of waking up gasping his name was quite risky.

But this day, of all days, was not the moment to let her thoughts drift away so much. The last hours of the experiment should require her full concentration, and did _not_ have to be spent thinking about her reunion with her amnesiac ex-boyfriend, or even less about her roommate finally forking her on their last sleepover ( _that_ would have been the Ultimate Slumber Party). 

But she was scared. Eleanor was pretty forking scared. And _very_ stressed out. The fact that stress made her horny, being horny constantly distracted her and being distracted got on her nerves just made everything worse.

_Oh, fork, I feel like I’m gonna die for a third time._

So she allowed herself to sleep in, because there was a slight possibility that it was the last time she managed to get any sleep at all. She still had the rest of the day for any other ‘last chances’ that could pop up in her mind, though. 

Who would have thought the sense of impending damnation could work as such a strong aphrodisiac?

“Michael, please keep your hand still.”

He giggled and took a second to tickle her before his fingers left her skin. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re ticklish.”

_For Fork’s sake, the demon is playing with fire here._

“Yeah, sure. Just stop moving and maybe I’ll finally get some sleep.”

She placed his hand back on her stomach. Because yeah, she still wanted it there. And _maybe_ a tiny miscalculation had her putting it right over the waistband of her pants, but it was just an accident! What was she gonna do? Move it _again?_ It was better to just leave it there and try not to think about that. And she would have to work especially hard to _not_ think about the fact that his fingers straightened and pressed against her skin. Was he trying to pull her closer?

 _Oh God, Michael. Either stop that or actually_ do _something._

He stopped.

And he was no longer there when she woke up.

But the mattress still smelled like antimatter, minerals from the rings of Saturn (or at least, that was what he had explained to her once) and _him._ Checking the clock, she noticed she still had a little bit of time before needing to get ready for the day, and she had already finished her video for the party yesterday, so she moved to his side of the blanket fort and buried herself under the covers.

At least being alone had a couple of perks.

* * *

Of course she would enjoy a delicious shrimp cocktail on what could be her final day of peaceful existence. Yes, it was the middle of the afternoon, so what? As long as she didn’t stain her dress ―and Eleanor had quite the practice― she didn’t see the problem. Sitting on top of the kitchen counter, she was waiting for Michael so they could go over the plans for the evening, but he barely glanced at her when he got home, rushed and anxious, before sprinting upstairs.

“Hey! Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute so I can put on my night clothes.”

She was about to follow him to his room, already worried, when he walked back down in his tuxedo and made his way towards the kitchen. He stood right in front of Eleanor with his hands hidden in his pockets, but only looked around her, avoiding her eyes.

She set the cocktail down on the counter, next to her, and studied him. “You’ve been crying.”

“I’ll be fine.” He nodded, glancing at her for a moment before staring at the counter. “Sorry I vanished after the meeting, I needed a moment to speak with Janet.”

“What’s wrong? You seemed so happy last time I saw you. What happened?”

He gave her a half smile. “I _am_ happy. And you don’t have to worry about me.”

_No, you're not. And yes, I do._

“You don't look happy.”

“I know. But I am. And I _am_ a little sad, too. It’s not easy to explain.”

Eleanor reached out to adjust the lapels of his jacket and tried to bring him closer. “My honorary human, I think that’s the most human thing I’ve ever heard.” She paused, expecting him to finally look at her. He didn't. “Hey, don’t you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She registered the shake of his head before listening to his voice, that was so low it was barely audible. “No.”

_Damn it, Michael._

“Are you sure?” She touched his face, trying —and failing— to get him to face her. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Then at least talk to me. C’mon, tell me what’s wrong. I hate seeing you like this!”

He took a step back, releasing himself from her grasp. “I’ll be fine, Eleanor! I’m always fine.” Her brows creased at the way his tone slightly rose, but soon he exhaled and finally met her eyes. “I just really don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Fine. But I’m right here, okay?”

He stayed silent but didn’t move away from her. 

Of course she would not just leave it at that. If he was not going to share with her what was happening, she could at least try to keep him there while she thought of a way to cheer him up.

 _Not like that, stupid horny brain!_ Actually _cheer him up._

So she poked his bowtie, trying to change the subject. “You know, I kinda wish our last matching outfit had been a little bit more original. I mean, black is classy and cool, and _you_ look really hot in it, but it doesn’t look that… matching.”

He snorted, blushing a little. “Not our boldest choice. But I guess trying to save humanity is enough boldness for one day.” His hand fished something out of the inner pocket of his suit. “I have something for you.”

_If it’s a coin, I swear I’m leaving him to mope on his own._

With a smile on his face, Michael handed her a round silver pendant that had a tiny paperclip engraved. When she looked up at him, he held up his wrist and displayed the bracelet she had made him more than three hundred years before. “Now, we can always be matching, in a way.”

“I love it.”

Eleanor sniffed and swallowed the lump in her throat. Fork, she hated seeing this come to an end. She loved and missed Chidi with her entire soul, but Michael had become a part of it. And this place had become her home.

_I wish we had more time together._

“Thank you, Michael. For everything.”

She stretched out an arm to pull him close again and give him a hug, but he didn’t move so she just grazed his forearm.

What was happening?

She raised his gift and offered it back to him. “Care to help me?”

“Sure.” He took it from her and stepped closer as she held up her hair with one hand, keeping the other one on the counter. “Here’s to the birth of our friendship.”

When her knees hit his legs and his arms moved around her, she cursed herself for asking him this. Slightly leaning to one side to leave room for him, she felt the breath of his words reach one of her bare collarbones, as the freezing metal and the marble contrasted with his constantly warm fingers over her own skin, that was dangerously heating. She felt goosebumps fill her when he touched her.

He pulled back without moving his feet and ran a couple of knuckles through the side of her neck while staring at the thin chain. 

_Oh fork, Michael._

His almost ceremonial tone died down as he continued. “Because we’ll always be friends, right?”

She caught him glancing at her lips right before he met her eyes.

_I can’t take this anymore._

Eleanor rushed to hold the back of his head, ready to pull him down with her and show him how mashing foodholes actually felt like, but he beat her to it and leaned in to drop a kiss on her cheek.

After a blink, he was walking away from her.

She jumped off of the counter. “Michael, wait. We need to talk.”

He turned to face her, showing his palms. “I told you, I don’t want to talk.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean talking about whatever it is you don’t wanna talk about. It’s just- don’t you think there’s something we need to... discuss?”

He sighed. “What is there to talk about?”

“Uh- It’s just, lately, we’ve-”

“I really don’t want to talk.”

She had already pushed Chidi inside Janet’s void, trying to get him to affront feelings he was not yet ready to face. It was not fair to do that to Michael, as well. And she had promised herself she would talk to Chidi before being straight with Michael. She was the one who decided to give him a soulmate, and she was the one who would deal with the consequences of the forking mess her love life had become.

So she nodded. “Okay.” When Michael kept moving, she spoke again. “Hey.”

He stopped and turned, but didn’t answer.

“Want us to do something that might lift your mood? Rewatch an episode of _Friends_ or make one last meal together? Uff, that sounded _super_ dark, but you know what I mean.”

He tilted his head at her. “You hate cooking.”

“But you don’t.”

His lips curved a little at that and Eleanor began to walk in his direction. 

“Thanks, but we don’t have a lot of time. Might be best we just head down to the office and check everything’s set for tonight.”

“You gonna be okay, bud?”

His hand moved towards her shoulder, but he drew it back at the last second and just smiled at her. “I feel better already.” He motioned for her to go down first through the spiral staircase. “But I’ll take a raincheck on us making dinner sometime.”

_Don’t you dare ask if it’s a date, Shellstrop._

* * *

_I could just not give a fork. And give_ him _a good fork._

Eleanor rubbed her forehead as she paced around the office, looking at him seated on top of the desk. Michael kept doing magic tricks around her, as if the fate of forking humanity was not about to be defined in a few hours. At least he was in a better mood, but hers was worsening. 

If she couldn’t have her fun, neither should he.

_So much for not being selfish._

There was truth in saying they really needed to focus. So if he took one more coin out of _somewhere,_ she would have no choice but to shove it up his nose and tell him to save it for tomorrow.

And _no,_ she was not mad because she was frustrated and horny.

Not entirely.

It was not a bad idea to distract him, though. The seduction attempt hadn’t worked in the past, but she had the feeling results would be different now. And it would be _so_ easy to just walk up to him and kiss him senseless, to take that file off of his hands and offer them both a much needed break right on top of the desk. Or maybe push him down on that chair, climb on top of him and give that ‘Oh, Eleanor’ she had heard so many times a new, breathy, urgent and almost desperate tone. She would make sure of that.

 _Damn, Shellstrop!_ _Get your mind out of the gutter!_

Humanity was at stake and she had too many responsibilities to start having fantasies right now!

But speaking of responsibilities… He _did_ tell her he liked having her on that chair so, maybe if _she_ was the one sitting there? Getting him to climb up might be hard, but she could put the ‘Architect’ pants on and get him down on his knees. Holy shirt, that sure promised to be a very fun way to let out some steam.

_Shirt, just stop!_

This was Michael. _Michael!_ Thousand year old demon, roommate and best friend. She could not just fork things up with him. And she should _not_ use the word ‘fork’ right now. And Chidi, pseudo ex-boyfriend slash fake soulmate was right outside. With Simone. But she was here, with Michael. On their last day. And she hadn’t forked anyone in a year. And Chidi was out there. But he was with Simone.

Oh, she was spiraling now.

At least when Janet showed up she could mentally slap herself to concentration.

It didn’t last long, though.

“I feel okay about most of it, but I just wish we had one concrete sign that Brent has improved. One moment where he bumps into someone and sincerely says ‘Oops, my bad’ You know? I would _kill_ for an ‘Oops, my bad’. Who’s a girl gotta _fork_ to get an ‘Oops, my bad’?!”

_Oops._

_My bad._

“Hey, hey, hey! Panicking about this experiment at crucial moments is kinda my move. Don’t fall apart on me now.”

“I won’t. It’s just, you know me. On Earth, I never played a game unless I knew I could either win or bribe the ref so he’d throw it for me. And if we lose, I’m gonna be _so mad!_ ”

Michael walked around the desk and stood in front of her. “Just one more day. We’re gonna stick to the plan, not do anything radical. Though, we could do something-” He paused, stretching out a hand in her direction and Eleanor’s eyes widened.

Something what? 

_Oh, fork. This is happening._

It was finally happening. 

She was not expecting him to take the first step and to say that she was shocked was almost an understatement. She had promised herself she wouldn’t do this yet, but should she just say ‘no’? 

Fork it, they could vanish in a matter of hours.

She began to lean closer, her lips parting, when he took a step back holding a coin in his hand.

“...Magical.”

_Son of a motherforking, deckshirting and crabby bench._

_I_ really _hate magic now. I forking hate it._

Eleanor shook her head and sighed, managing to keep a straight face. “You gotta let it go, man.”

After Janet appeared to agree with her _(thanks, babe)_ , she left the office and walked to the town square. And _maybe_ she threw his stupid deck of cards to the grass but she wasn’t _mad_ at him. She was just… very stressed out.

And _very_ frustrated.

* * *

Now he understood why she had always been different, why he sought the curve of her smile and was thrilled by the intensity of her stare.

Was there a point to feeling this way? Did it have some sort of meaning?

Or was feeling this way about someone the definition of meaning itself? Did things matter at all to him because of her?

To say he owed her his current existence was not a novelty. Maybe she owed him her life, but Michael had always felt _he_ was the one in debt with her.

She managed to bring out the best in him, and maybe that was the point.

_Oh, Eleanor… If only I were able to say it._

He wished he could trace her entire figure with his fingers. Obviously, he couldn’t do that. But it was _her_ and everything about her fascinated him. He had always liked touching her, but now he accepted the fact that his hands had moved towards her for years, practically on their own, because he craved to have at least a part of her close to him.

He would have stayed there, doing absolutely nothing, not even sleeping, for eternity. He knew he would never get bored of her. Eleanor was special because she accepted the fact that he wasn’t human and still managed to make him feel as human as he ever thought possible.

It was not everything, but it was enough for him.

He got up from the mattress when, still fast asleep, she let out a sound and moved closer to him. Her back ended up on his chest and her legs were searching for his when he quickly crawled out of the fort. He could not allow himself that level of closeness.

He tried to keep his distance around her, but when he put that pendant on her neck, he made out a path of sensitive spots right behind one of her arteries and couldn’t help but run his fingers through it.

He wanted to touch her.

And he wanted to make her feel good.

Was that wrong? Because it didn’t feel wrong. And the vibrating change of colors around her skin was nothing next to the way her eyes slowly blinked and her head slightly tilted at his touch. Janet told him to trust his own powers, and he would at least enjoy raising her heartbeat if he knew just how to do it. It had become his favorite sound in the universe.

He wouldn’t look at her aura yet, he was not ready to do that. But he knew a thing or two about human bodies and Eleanor’s body was… something else. Something different, just like she was. And it was worthy of the best use of his abilities. ‘Superior’ his ash, he would put them entirely at her service in a second.

He also wanted to kiss her.

He really wanted to kiss her. Anywhere, it didn’t matter, but there was something about feeling the soft contact of his lips against her skin that felt incredible. He wondered if he would like kissing her lips.

_“Maybe one day you’ll find out some human habits are not as gross as you might think.”_

She couldn’t- she didn’t mean _that,_ did she?

Of course not. And he would never know the feeling anyway, so maybe it was best not to keep asking unanswerable questions.

* * *

No wonder the day seemed too calm to last.

He was not expecting _Simone_ to be the one who forked up their plans, but scientists in the afterlife were able to cause quite the chaos.

“Eleanor, could you please stop that?”

She kept tapping her heels against the floor as Michael tried to read the research papers that endangered all the work they had done this past year. They were waiting at Mindy's for the rest of the group to arrive for an emergency meeting.

Jason and Tahani were trying to find Chidi and Simone, who had vanished out of their own apartment; and Janet was setting up her babies and the final details for the party. 

Eleanor crossed her arms on the seat opposite his and stopped fidgeting, but only for a brief moment. “I’m nervous.”

He kept his eyes glued on the pages. “I’m nervous, too. But your foot isn't helping. The clock’s not moving any differently just because you're keeping tabs on it.”

“I’m not helping?! Look who's talking, Mr. Presto. Or does that hat work both ways and you can make all of our troubles _magically_ disappear?”

“It’s _doctor_ Presto.”

But she knew that, which meant she did it on purpose.

Her hand stroked her chin as sarcasm dripped from her voice. “How many points did it cost to correct a degree? I think it was fourteen… And this one isn't even a _real_ degree.”

He snapped back at her. “It’s not the first time my neck’s on the line over a project full of unpredictable humans. I'm just trying to help you guys relax.”

That left her silent for a couple of seconds.

“I’m sorry.”

Michael looked up at her. “I’m sorry, too.”

She shook her head at him and stood to settle on his armrest. “You don't have to apologize for anything. I've been a bench even though I knew you weren't feeling that great to begin with.”

“I assure you, I’m fine. And I haven't been that nice to you, either.”

“Yeah, you have. You’re always nice.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look, we're both a little burned out, and kinda short on patience. It's not like we're lacking in reasons.”

“That we aren't.” He sighed and none of them said anything for a moment. Her foot was stroking up and down his shin while he tried not to think about how close to him her face was.

“I do kinda like the bouquets.” She rolled her eyes at her own words. He could almost hear her wondering when she had become so lame.

He grinned, leaning to his side to look at her. “I know you do. I'm one short on my collection.”

It was rare, being capable of making Eleanor blush, so he allowed himself a moment of pride when she briefly glanced down and her cheeks turned pink. He was sneakingly reaching for his pocket when she held up a hand.

“I didn't mean I wanted one right now.”

He snorted, showing her his palms. “Okay.”

“Better save them for the party. Swoon some Janet babies.”

If only he were interested in swooning anyone but her.

She rested a hand on the back of his neck. “You know, you spent the entire day trying to make us feel better, and no one's helping you.”

“I'm fine, Eleanor.”

“Not entirely. You might not be sad anymore, but I know you're stressed. We all are.”

Her fingers pressed on his skin and he threw his back on the seat, exhaling, as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“I think I'm only now realizing how tense I was.”

Eleanor let out a chuckle and he wondered just how long that list of favorite sounds could get. Especially when her voice dropped right next to his ear.

“Too bad I don't know any magic tricks.”

He intended to laugh but barely managed to smile and let some air come out through his nose.

Her chest brushed against his arm as she rested her body against his. Her hand kept stroking his neck and shoulders, sometimes barely sneaking underneath the hem of his shirt. “Just so you know, there's… a human thing I wanna give you. For your collection.”

He swallowed. “You gave me something already.”

“It's something else. But I need you to wait until tomorrow. Is that okay with you?”

 _Damn it, did Janet amp up the thermostat or something?_ “What is it?”

He wondered if her lips truly grazed his ear when she laughed or if he just imagined it. “Where's the fun in telling you that now?”

How could everything she did feel soft and hard at once, scaldingly freezing and just _so forking good?_

He wanted- He wanted to-

_No._

_No, no, no._

He could not want _that._ Even thinking about it was incredibly inappropriate. No. That was unethical, improper and straight up wrong. Eleanor was human and young and he… he wasn’t. She was in love with someone else, someone he cared about, one of his friends, someone who would regain his memories of her in a matter of hours.

He could deal with romantic feelings, he could even try to hide them. But he couldn’t deal with that. This was supposed to be chaste. He could _not_ just-

_Oh, what did her nails just do to me?_

He never heard of any God, but now he knew there _had_ to be one somewhere, someone either so benevolent or so malicious that was able to show him barely a glimpse of her touch.

“Eleanor?”

“Yes, Michael?”

Fork, he never loved his name this much! What he wouldn’t give to keep hearing her pronounce it? 

_Just like that._

He wanted to ask her to move away from him. He needed to stop this before saying or doing something he would regret. But he really didn’t want her to stop touching him.

_Just do it, Mikey._

_Bring her closer, just one time. Pull her down with you and touch her._

_You can do whatever you want to her._

No. He couldn’t.

That is _not_ what he wanted. He _couldn’t_ want that. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, and they taught him _that_ hurt humans. That he was supposed to cause pain in terrible violations of intimacy, that he could get pleasure out of the suffering and the invasion of other beings. He never did that, he never dared to do that to any creature.

And she was the last one he would ever hurt.

He needed to push those thoughts out of his brain. He needed to-

Mindy’s door opened and she instantly stood up, as the rest of the gang walked in. He caught Tahani glancing back and forth between the two of them, with her brows creased, and he took a deep breath, at last finding the opportunity to distract himself. He ran a hand through his face and restrained himself from clearing his throat.

Everything was fine.

“We saw Chidi and Simone leaving your office.”

Everything was _not_ fine.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “What?! Shirt, what if they saw the board with their pictures?” She paused, gasping. “What if they broke into our home?”

Tahani’s hand went to her chest. “Please tell me you don’t have a photo with Chidi up on a wall or something?”

“Of course I don’t, I’m not an idiot. But there’s a blanket fort in the living room I didn’t feel like putting away. And that’s not very… godlike. And there’s an arcade and a margarita vending machine.”

Michael interjected. “And a shrimp dispenser.”

She continued. “And a cotton candy machine. And a room full of random human things.”

Fork, he loved that place. And based on the sad smile she sent him, she was thinking the same thing.

He pointed a finger at her. “And a bathroom. You’re not supposed to need bathrooms.”

“They don’t know that, don’t worry. The thing is we don’t really give away the image of the forking rulers of Heaven.” Eleanor crossed her arms and straightened her back, putting on her best Team Leader pose. “So what’s next?”

* * *

The rulers of Hell it was.

Michael had never thought time would lead him to this specific moment. Pretending to be, once again, torturer, by the side of a human he was supposed to punish seemed unthinkable little over 300 years ago. But he had no way of anticipating the impact Eleanor Shellstrop would have in his existence. In some of his wildest sprouts of imagination, he had considered taking her, _only her_ , as his ally during the reboots. When it became clear that she was the key to his failures, he wondered if she might also help him in the path to success. In a way, he had not been wrong to think that.

And at this moment, he couldn’t help but dream of such an idea turning reality. If he had been brave enough to ask her…

This was no time for regrets, though. It was _showtime._

She was such a marvelous actress. The tone of her voice, the shift on her posture, the angle of her brows. Everything about her screamed pure wickedness. It almost seemed as if the very tips of her fingers could be put at use to torture a poor soul.

 _Oh,_ if only Michael had a soul…

In what way it was possible for him to be his best self around her and, at once, feel so drawn to this part of her? He agreed with his past self on something: she would make a fine demon.

He was plagued by selfishness in a way he hadn’t been in years. At the beginning of this day, he wished he could trace her body with his fingers. Now, not even that still impossible dream seemed enough. There were no hands able to capture the ways in which she fascinated him, no nails capable of taking her with him. No.

He wanted more.

“Don’t you get it? They’re torturing you. They’re torturing all of us. Because _this_ is the Bad Place.”

She laughed with the amused malice of the most beautiful villain in the entire universe.

And oh, he wanted so much more.

He wanted to let her know how much adoration he professed to her, the number of feelings she had made him aware of. He craved to be a witness of her happiness, the cause of her smiles, the recipient of those stares thirsty for life, even in death, glistening with mischief, even in the path to morality, and full of love, even if she didn’t love _him._

He almost, almost wanted to listen to that voice that whispered him to open up a new blackhole right in the middle of this office, to take her away and send them both into a different world, where no one else existed because no one else _mattered,_ where chaos, immorality and freedom allowed him to keep living with her forever.

He wanted to embrace the wave of demonic desires that overwhelmed him, that impulse towards the most harmless type of badness, the urge to do amounts of things he was not supposed to do, but this was her, this was Eleanor, and-

And _he wanted her._

He could not take it anymore. He swore himself he would put into practice all the patience and restraint needed to stay by her side without ever jeopardizing their friendship. He could love her in silence, he had done it for years, not even counting with himself as his own confidant.

But this?

He could only try. And he was doomed to fail.

So he held on to her waist.

This was supposed to be Chidi’s hell after all. That didn’t really work as an excuse when one remembered they were not actually in the Bad Place and the nerd didn’t need to be tortured. So he might as well admit he just wanted to touch her.

Eleanor took a turn around the desk, as his hands slid through the fabric of her dress, and looked at him before standing behind Chidi.

_Of course._

And he remembered he couldn’t do any of those things. Not because of _him_ but because of her, because she would never want to. Not with a demon, and certainly not with this one.

Then, the timer filled with zeros.

* * *

Matt told them the Judge was taking a few minutes to finish an episode of _Westworld_ , so they had the option to change their clothes before the trial. The walk home was… strange, to say the least. No one said anything, not out of a lack of things to share but rather for the anticipation and uncertainty that plagued them all. There was no way to know how the experiment turned out, and this was not just a test they could fail and move on from.

One way or another, their fates were already sealed.

Michael’s both best and worst quality had always been his ambition.

But this just took the cake.

Tahani drifted to her mansion and, soon after, Jason and Janet got to his fake yurt. Michael watched Eleanor walk a few steps ahead of him, with the bottle of tequila in her hand. After taking a sip out of it, she briefly turned to hand it over to him and kept moving. He closed his eyes and swallowed a mouthful of the drink. The burning sensation down his throat was nothing compared to the amount of things happening in his essence.

_“Let’s wake him up. You know, so I can, like, be reunited with the man I love?”_

He was finally aware of the cause of that pain he had been feeling these past few months. Maybe even years. It was not a mere reflection of the suffering of his humans. He wanted, more than anything, for her to be happy. He would do anything to keep her from torment, and he knew waking Chidi up came first on that list. But now, he could admit to himself that there was more to it.

He couldn’t help but stare at her, eyeing the way her dress moved along with the breeze, or how her hair had come a bit undone as the night progressed. He felt-

He felt _so much-_

He had been condemned to the status of a sad mortal, prisoner of urges claimed by a convicted. Hunger and thirst, longing and heartbreak. And fear. So much forking fear. He was afraid, afraid of too many things to start counting. Thousands of questions rushed through his brain, but most were variations of a single one, most likely the least answerable one: _why?_ Why now and why her? Why this feeling, why did he have to follow her everywhere? Why did he choose that specific file, that truly _special_ woman for his neighborhood? Why did he have to fall in love with humanity?

Why did he fall for her?

Why, why did Eleanor Shellstrop have to drop into his existence?

But, as whenever he asked himself too many questions, _his_ voice appeared. Farts, the pesky nerd had become his conscience.

Poor timing, if there was ever any.

He continued to deal with the ethical dilemma of feeling this kind of attraction for his much younger, much _human_ best friend, who was deeply in love with his other, young and human friend. He didn’t want to hurt her. No. He told himself that this very day: he just wanted to make her feel good. But true pleasure was out of his realm of action.

He couldn’t. 

Anxiety sped up his breathing as Chidi’s voice was replaced by others, by voices of his past that scared him a There of a lot more.

_Why didn’t you touch her during one of those reboots?_

_You could have had her posing as your soulmate._

_Or you could have asked her just how far she would go to stay in your perfect little neighborhood._

No. _No!_ He would never do that. Even in his past, he was able to recognize the boundaries. There were things that never felt okay for him. That should have been his first sign. If he had gotten out of there sooner, if he had realized he didn’t belong-

He would have never known her.

When he reached the top steps of the spiral staircase, it hit him.

This was it.

It smelled and tasted like a goodbye. And even if they won, it sort of was. They would not share this anymore. Their home would vanish into the abyss, and he would only keep memories of the most special year of his existence. They were done with game nights and movie marathons, with dinners and simulations. Sure, they would do things together, but it wouldn't be the same. He would no longer be the first being she laid eyes on every morning, nor the last one to hear her wish a good night. 

And if they lost? He would never allow them to torture his friends, he would offer himself on the spot to keep them safe. He would have centuries of Eleanor’s smiles to remember in his solitude. 

But honestly? He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be retired. He really didn’t.

No matter how, this was over. 

And that frightened him.

The words ‘urgency’, ‘completion’, ‘death’ and ‘preciousness’ came back to him for the first time since she looked for him at that beach, now invested with a new and terrible meaning. It was not only about things mattering.

It was also about endings.

There was too much to say to ever be done with it, and too much to feel to not be overwhelmed. There were too little words for too many thoughts and too many colors for him to keep score. He had _barely_ now started, and he could not handle it anymore.

The amount of words stuck in his throat began to physically hurt him, as they blocked the air away from his lungs. When he saw her reach the first steps of her stair, as she aimed for her room, his hands responded enough to climb to his neck. With two sharp movements, he removed his black bow tie and breathed.

“You must know.”

She stopped.

Michael closed his eyes and threw his back on the wall, exhausted and scared.

_She must know._

She surely _knew,_ she had to have realized. She must have understood before him, she always did. And she had to know, he _needed_ her to know. She was the one who kept asking him for honesty, after all. It didn’t matter if she didn’t feel the same, or if it was impossible. He felt the _urge_ to let her know. Finally, he got it. At last, he understood death.

Right when he felt like dying.

He could not fight the despair in his voice, the way he cried every vowel and pleaded for her to listen to something he would never tell her out loud. He didn’t have a right to express it, not even to feel it.

“You _must_ know.”

He heard a step in the deep, somber silence of the night. And then another. He opened his eyes and watched her come back down, staring right at him. He wished he could focus on something other than her eyes, to pull himself away from them and read her aura or trace any sort of feeling that warned him to stop this.

But her eyes-

He couldn’t tear himself off of those eyes.

“Eleanor, I- I-” He managed a small smile, completely devoid of any joy, and took a deep breath. “You look so _beautiful_ tonight.”

That was enough for now.

His voice was still rough, dry and broken. He couldn’t distinguish if the sounds that came out along with his words were laughs or whimpers.

She came to stand in front of him and took three steps before hugging him.

He knew she would get it.

She buried her face on the crook of his neck, keeping one hand on the back of it as the other combed through his hair. Her nails softly traced his spine and he figured out what those little mountains that formed on her skin when he touched her were, because that felt _so good_ he almost regretted ever laying a finger down on her body.

His fingers went to her waist on their own account, having found a place they would always want to go back to. She was so close he wanted nothing more than to keep her there, so he pulled her body towards his. And he felt her sigh on his neck.

Maybe Retirement was not the worst fate. Because now, he was burning on the surface of a single sun, a sun called Eleanor Shellstrop, and he realized his worst possible fate would be an existence where he didn’t get to meet her, where he didn’t have the privilege to count on her as his enemy, his friend, his partner in crime, his-

He would take anything she gave him. Anything.

His hands couldn’t stand still and travelled up and down, from the small of her back, grazing her clothes, feeling the hard core of her spine and something incredibly soft on her sides, finding ribs, muscle and flesh, as the air whispered to him that this was not only the first, but surely the last time he would get to touch her like this.

His breathing had to be erratic, even chaotic, but maybe she didn’t care because she gripped him closer and pulled him tighter. A few fingers clung onto his hair while others crawled through his back, moving in almost desperate cycles. Maybe she didn’t want to let go, either.

_Then, please, don’t do it._

He wondered how he could feel this close to someone else and not crush them. Why now, why so _near_ now that they had to leave each other?

He was trembling, scalding from ache and desire, but also frozen with fear and regret, unable to keep up with the series of unfamiliar sensations and emotions running through him.

His brain couldn’t keep quiet either.

_The things I’ll miss._

_The ones I want._

_The dreams I cannot dare to ask for._

Longin, craving and resigning.

His hands reached the hem on the back of her dress just as she exhaled on his neck, and there was skin there, her skin and _oh God._

How had he spent so much time without feeling this?

What was she doing to him?

At least, he wouldn’t ‘die’ without knowing the feeling of tracing her figure with his fingers.

His head fell on her hair and he allowed himself to breathe in. _Peaches._ He had given up. On what? He didn’t know. On denying that she was the most important part of his existence. Or that, as soon as he chose her for his experiment, he was doomed. That she came into his existence to destroy every structure and destabilize all schemes. That, ever since she blew up his plan for that very first time, she would set up a tradition of catching him off guard, one she would honor each time she, whether or not it was intended, pointed out all his mistakes and walked two steps ahead of him.

That she drove him insane, in more ways than one.

A tear fell on his neck right before her lips pressed, soft and slowly, against the skin under his clavicle, lingering there for a couple of seconds. She pulled back, but didn’t let him go, and then looked down at his open collar to give his chest a sad smile, palming his shirt as her thumb rubbed one of his buttons.

Someone spoke. “I’m scared.”

And someone answered. “Me, too.”

Eleanor traced his face with her other hand, caressing it. He felt his eyes closing at the softness of her touch, almost intoxicating.

_What a time to figure it out._

Holding him by the back of his neck, she unsteadily got on her tiptoes. He held her up and close by grabbing the small of her back and burying his fingers in her hair. He stared at her lips and dropped his head to meet her forehead with his own, as their noses brushed against each other.

_Is she also thinking about this?_

Pulling her impossibly closer, needing to feel as much of her as he could, he cried out a single word. “Please…”

 _Please,_ just once. Just one time, one kiss. _Please._

Her thumb traced his jawline. “I asked you to wait until tomorrow, buddy.”

He leaned his head back a few inches, his lips parting as realization dawned on him. 

She smiled, nodding. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice?”

Before giving him time to think of an answer, her fingers pulled on his hair to bring him back to her. Pressing herself up against him, almost pushing his body against the wall, every inch of her all over him, she planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth, filled with such passion he wondered what an actual kiss could possibly hold in store for him. Then, her lips ghosted over his, almost, _almost_ there, but he already guessed she was not going to do it. He wished he could dare to do it himself.

His hands held on to her for as long as they could, an arm stretching behind her as she walked away. But soon, his fingers fell from her skin and he was alone again.

He watched her climb the stairs, drying tears off of her face, and this time didn’t stop her.

He knew what was coming next.

_Goodbye, Eleanor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm sorry for that. But a few things to say:
> 
> 1) That beautiful artwork is Start Pepper's. Check out everything she does because it's beautiful <3  
> Link to her social media:  
> \- Tumblr: https://star-pepper.tumblr.com/  
> \- Instagram: https://instagram.com/starpepper.arts?igshid=16ahwo2338xa1  
> \- Twitter: https://twitter.com/Starpepper5?s=09
> 
> Original post: https://star-pepper.tumblr.com/post/629589181022322688/time-for-exciting-stories-at-the-end-of-august-i
> 
> 2) After the squad leaves Mindy's place in 4x08, they're wearing different clothes. And there's a sort of blank between the cold open and the first act, so I just felt it was the right opportunity for that last moment between them.
> 
> 3) Cover that inspired this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4jbaH2es1c
> 
> 4) And also, Eleanor's dress doesn't have a bare back, I know, but I wrote that part before checking it and I kinda needed some skin.


End file.
